


Potential

by aweirdlookingtree (StrokeofStupidity)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Competency, Emperor Armitage Hux, F/M, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied Sexual Content, Mentions of Murder, Not Canon Compliant - Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Reader-Insert, Self-Insert, Strangers to Lovers, TLJ and TROS don't happen here, Treason, attempted coups, for the sake of this fic everyone is bisexual, successful coups, tooka cat millicent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:35:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23986168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrokeofStupidity/pseuds/aweirdlookingtree
Summary: You have no reason to dislike the General, technically as a person under the rule of the First Order you should deify him, but you can’t help yourself. There’s something hard about him, so cold and distasteful. He’s so obviously power hungry and so clearly an idiot in the ways he goes about getting it. You won’t deny he’s intelligent and cunning, but he lacks finesse. He doesn’t have quite the right amount of charm to get what he wants. He’s too eager and too military but…But there was potential there. He could be great, he could rule them all. He just needed the right person to help him and you knew exactly who that should be.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren/Reader, Armitage Hux/Reader, Armitage Hux/You
Comments: 26
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on tumblr but I realized that there are plenty of people who may want to read Reader Inserts who don't have tumblrs so my friends convinced me to post here. A big thank you to Zannah, Autumn, and Holly for giving me a much needed boost of confidence. I hope you enjoy the story and feel free to check out my tumblr [here](http://aweirdlookingtree.tumblr.com).
> 
> Originally posted on February 22, 2020.
> 
> Unbeta'd so please excuse any mistakes.

You’re not allowed to meet him; when he comes to the estate to visit your father and brother. Maybe it’s because your family thinks he’s only here to discuss a new position in the First Order for your brother, or maybe it’s because, and you know this is a petty thought, your mother is trying to marry off your sister and you’re prettier than her by a long shot. Granted it isn’t that your sister isn’t pretty, she is, or that she isn’t friendly and sociable and everything an officer’s wife should be. But if your parents think General Hux of the First Order is going to marry your older sister and be content with that, they’re more foolish than you thought.

Honestly, the fact that they think General Hux is just here to discuss a job opening is more than eye opening to their naivety. The First Order is reeling after the destruction of Starkiller; he’s here to beg for funds and nothing more. Perhaps he will have to give your brother a job and marry your sister to get the money and _that_ thought is full of wicked glee. 

You have no reason to dislike the General, technically as a person under the rule of the First Order you should deify him, but you can’t help yourself. There’s something hard about him, so cold and distasteful. He’s so obviously power hungry and so clearly an idiot in the ways he goes about getting it. You won’t deny he’s intelligent and cunning, but he lacks finesse. He doesn’t have quite the right amount of charm to get what he wants. He’s too eager and too military but… 

But there was potential there. He could be great, he could rule them all. He just needed the right person to help him and you knew exactly who that should be.

You could crash their meeting, come striding in and sit yourself down in one of your prettier outfits and steal the attention but subtlety will be the better option here. So you wait, you wait until their meeting is over and General Hux makes his way towards the guest room he’s staying in. There’s a piece of artwork by his room and you stand there looking at it and waiting for him. If you happen to be in a very beautiful gown, then that’s just a coincidence. The pale blue dress is one of your favorites and it’s off the shoulder design accentuates your neck and collarbones and chest while dozens of sewn on flowers add pops of pastel color. Certainly better than the ugly drab thing your sister preferred, trying to instill a feeling of modesty that you knew she didn’t have. Overall the look was just right; nothing too extravagant or risque but enough to hopefully cause a second look.

The sad truth is that you were never important, never truly needed. The spare of a spare and not even a boy to bring in glory. Your parents cared very little for you but still regarded you closely and warily. You could be useful to them someday and therefore you were always watched. They could tell you had ideas but they would be shocked if they knew the extent. You were smart and you had ambitions and it was obvious the way the galaxy was forming. You wanted power and you wanted to be heard and looking at it from an objective standpoint, Hux was the best way to do that. It would be unpleasant to get him to like you, let alone trust you, but you could pull a long con. You could mold him, help him realize his true brilliance, help him get all the factions under control. Starkiller was a setback, you won’t deny it but he was clever and with you behind him, everything you ever wanted would soon be served to you on a platter. With your plans and creativity, you could probably be in charge. Kick out Snoke and Hux and even Kylo Ren and just rule it all. But that was risky, cocky, and far too ambitious for someone like you, coming from nothing. You needed a foothold and that was where Hux came in. He would be very useful if you could just get him underneath you. You also despised wasting things with good skills and connections. Besides, better him the target than you.

You hear him coming before he actually appears, the quick step of his shoes against the stone floors followed by the clank of Stormtrooper armour. He brought bodyguards with him, though he won’t need them here. The only danger to him is your mother’s clear and desperate attempts at matchmaking. He sounds closer and you quickly school your features into ones of pensive thought and admiration like you’re so caught up in the painting you don’t even hear the stomps coming down the hallway.

He turns the corner and you hear the moment he sees you. After what you assume is a moment of composure, he stops and clears his throat. You pretend to startle and turn towards him, hand clutching at your chest. Your eyes widen a little in surprise. 

“Oh forgive me General. I was just lost in my own little world right there. I didn’t mean to stand in the middle of the hallway like that,” You apologize. He nods his head in understanding though his face remains impassive. You’ve got to at least give credit where credit is due. He is extremely handsome. There’s a sharpness to his features that you like, that you’ve always liked if you’re being honest, and his eyes are unfairly green. Finally face to face you can see that he’s taller and broader than you and while he isn’t muscular, there’s a leanness to him that suggests some form of exercise. 

“It’s quite alright. It’s a beautiful piece, I can understand why you would get distracted by it.” He finally says, his voice soft, softer than you thought it could go. Is the General a secret art lover?

“It’s one of my favorites. I always love coming here to look at it.” You say, completely truthful. He could be lying, wanting to seem polite and get you out of the way but a small part of you hopes he isn’t. It will only help your plan if you have things in common.

“You’re (Y/N), yes? Your mother mentioned she had another daughter. Why didn’t you join us during lunch?” He asked, his gaze becoming one of shrewd assessment. You flush without meaning to.

“I am. I wasn’t invited. You’re not supposed to know but I think Mother wants to set you up with my older sister. She’s afraid that having me there would be a distraction.”

He walks past you then and opens the door to his room, standing there with a raised eyebrow. Glancing at the Stormtroopers you realize he wants to continue the conversation but is aware that it might turn into something that requires more privacy. You quickly walk into his room, hiding your smirk as you do so. He’s so sweetly going along with your plan, you’d thank him if it wouldn’t give you away.

He follows you in and closes the door before striding to the small liquor cabinet your father keeps stocked for guests. He pours himself a whiskey, offering you a glass which you decline. You have to play this carefully and you don’t want alcohol to impair you. You also prefer wine over harder spirits. Taking a sip with a pleased hum, he sits down and relaxes. Well maybe not relaxes, he’s too tightly wound to do that but he does recline in the chair and you suppose that’s enough for him.

“I found your sister, and your entire family, to be pleasant and welcoming. Why would you be a distraction?” He finally asks, his tone full of disdainful curiosity. He’s goading you, he wants you to snap and reveal something he can use and… 

A flash of heat runs through you and settles somewhere around your pelvis. General Hux is planning on using you just as much as you’re planning on using him.

“Because I’m better than her.” You say, your eyes flinty and words proud. He smiles at you then, slow and sharklike and you’re positive your answering smile matches his perfectly. 

“I think she was right to be afraid.”

You have to tread carefully here, you’re both playing a game and you want to win. You can’t admit your plan outright but you do need to gauge his interest. He takes another sip of whiskey, his eyes never leaving yours. The setting sun comes through the window and everything gets a touch darker. Neither of you calls out to raise the lights and the hazy quality of the room feels appropriate.

“You’re a very smart man General,” You start, sitting down in a chair opposite him. Your posture is relaxed but the vibroblade you have strapped to your thigh is cool against your skin. You don’t want to use it, but you’re not afraid to. 

“I’ve been told that, yes.” He responds slowly, trying to piece out what you’re getting at. His gaze is calculating and you enjoy it, you’re surprised to realize, you enjoy playing in this match with him.

“And yet, here you are. Begging for handouts and scraps after your failure.” You say harshly. His grip on the crystal glass of whiskey tightens and his mouth thins. You notice his other hand curls into a fist and if he hadn’t been wearing gloves, his nails would probably be digging into the skin.

“If this is your way to get into my good graces, you’re sadly mistaken.” His voice is ice.

“It isn’t. Though I doubt you have good graces to even get.” At that, the ice melts away a little and he smirks again. Raises his glass to you in a mockery of a toast.

“I’ve been told that as well.”

You watch him in silence for a while, both of you thinking and plotting. Does he understand what you want from him? What does he want from you? The anticipation is filling up the room, soon your hands might start to sweat. 

“I don’t think you need to give my brother a job or marry my sister to get money. You’ll get it from the older families easily enough. Just play to their vanity and the glory of the old Empire. You’ll soon have enough funds to build another weapon, hopefully less wasteful and idiotic than Starkiller.”

He looks incensed again and sets his glass down roughly on the table next to his chair. “Starkiller was not idiotic! It was my greatest military achievement to date!”

“Yes, and it only fired once before being destroyed by an old smuggler and an ex-Stormtrooper!” You shoot back, finger pointing in his direction. He snarls but doesn’t respond back.

“I would think knowing the history of the two Death Stars that failed so horrifically, you’d figure that creating a death ray in giant orb would be a bad idea.” You say, on a roll now. You’re saying more than you should but his pinched, red face is making you angry. Your mother would be shocked at your condescending tone but he needed to hear this. He needed to be brought down a peg and you enjoyed the mental visual of him on his knees before you. Then you could raise him up.

“Not to mention the complete waste of life. Five planets General? Surely one would’ve been enough. But now you’ve lost all that extra labour and possible soldiers and trade routes! You can’t rule over people that don’t exist.” He sits up suddenly then, as if hit by a blaster bolt. So much for not revealing your plan right away. This was only part one but you could have been a bit subtler. At least you weren’t yelling, suddenly aware of the Stormtroopers outside the door.

“What a very interesting thing to say. Why should I care about ruling over anyone? Supreme Leader Snoke controls the First Order. My focus is on my troops with their missions and conquests.” He drawls, leaning back once again in his chair and giving you a suspicious smile. He has a spark of hunger in his eyes and it thrills you to see it. It’s not a lustful or possessive hunger but one of pure greed. The look of a starving animal who just found it’s dinner limping in the forest. Your anger leaves you and in it’s place: the heady rush of excitement. 

“I think”, you say slowly, rising up from your chair to stalk over to his. General Hux tilts his head to the side, looking at the way your dress sweeps along your legs. “I think we could be very good friends General.”

Feeling very bold and perhaps stupid, you get into his lap and straddle him. His only reaction is a quick intake of breath through his nose. 

Then he looks up at you, the smile gone from his face but his eyes still so bright and sharp. His hand comes up to clutch at your waist and his grip is bordering on painful. You hold your breath, your heart beating so fast you’re sure he can hear it.

“I think we can do much better than that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two coming soon!!
> 
> Also if anyone is interested, I have a Pinterest board for this fic [here](https://www.pinterest.com/briellecari/potential-au/)!


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally board the Finalizer and reunite with your husband. Has the time apart endeared you to him? Now that you're alone, will you get along?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd so please excuse any mistakes. 10 Points to whoever can get the Eddie Izzard reference!
> 
> Originally posted March 3, 2020.

As much as Starkiller was a failure in your eyes, you wouldn’t deny that it made certain things easier. You didn’t have to worry about planting politicians in the Senate if said Senate had been blown up. Still, the vacuum that left in the galaxy needed to be filled. Smaller planets and peoples were left without leaders or guidance and they needed to be reached before the Resistance got there. That had been your mission for the past few months. 

You and the General had been sending triple encoded messages back and forth, discussing which politicians to endorse and which to drop. There were plenty of First Order sympathizers even with the demise of Starkiller but they couldn’t be too headstrong. They had to be open to suggestions and molding. A true puppet government wouldn’t work right now, you’d have to build up to it. So with his ideas and some of your own in mind, you traveled under the banner of the First Order, going from planet to planet and spaceport to spaceport, sowing pride and loyalty for your cause. For your husband’s cause. 

You had married in a beautiful but small ceremony, wanting to appeal to the grandeur of the old Empire while also acknowledging the salary of a General, even the most important one. Your father regarded the whole affair with bemusement, focusing on brown-nosing the guests and drinking expensive liquor. Your mother regarded the whole day with tired chagrin, knowing she couldn’t really complain without seeming sour and ungrateful. Perhaps it was petty, but after years of being ignored and put down, you relished in your joy. In the end, everyone got what they wanted. Your brother got the job, Hux got his money, and you got your foothold.

Then, as the night drew to a close, you couldn’t help but feel flutters of something in your stomach. You wondered what kind of experience you had coming. There were rumors about General Hux’s predilections and you wondered which were true. You were not above using sex as a way to get what you wanted from him, and he was very handsome in his dress uniform. But when you left the party and went to your suite, General Hux had merely squeezed your hand, kissed it, and then retreated to a side room to work. The air turned cold after the door between you whooshed shut and unsure of the swirl of emotions inside you- anger, betrayal, sadness, relief, happiness, confusion, embarrassment- you went to bed. Two days later, you left for your mission and he for the Finalizer.

And now you’re coming home, or what would be your home for the foreseeable future. You had plans to settle planetside but that would be a few years off. The ship was a small one, only big enough for yourself, two pilots, and a small group of Stormtroopers for your protection. They were all good, hard working people and you ingratiated yourself to them easily. It was never too early to start getting allies. Despite coming from a noble family, you were an outsider to the First Order. The more people you had thinking of you fondly, the better off you’d be should disaster strike.

The Finalizer comes into view- massive and imposing, and your breath catches in your throat at the truly awesome amount of power it holds. The co-pilot, mistaking your gasp for romantic excitement, turns towards you with a fond smile. 

“Eager to get home to the General, my Lady?” He asks, his aged face looking kind. You glance down as if embarrassed but then quickly look back at the viewport and sigh. You couldn’t truly miss your husband, you’d been in contact with him these whole four months. The encrypted messages, though pointed and factual, made you feel something akin to closeness. You spoke of ambition and treason and he never spoke down to you but instead took your ideas into consideration. It was honestly the perfect way to be married. You never had to see him, but he still did everything you told him too.

“Oh yes! These past few months have been difficult but the Order must always come first. I know my dear husband has been so hard at work and getting to see him in action will truly be a gift.” You say with all the breathless anticipation of a newlywed. The pilots chuckle and nod, perhaps remembering their own youth, and the ship is silent until you land in the loading dock. If you roll your eyes anymore they’ll pop out of your skull. 

The Stormtroopers gather your bags and walk behind you as you exit the ship onto the Finalizer. The landing bay is a large and open area, bright floodlights hitting the silver walls and floors in a way that makes the whole place shine. It is also very cold and unfriendly. No one stops to greet you when you finally stop walking, barely anyone gives you a second glance. It’s honestly insulting. As a general’s wife, as the General’s wife, you deserve more respect. That’s not even including the fact that you are technically still a member of the ruling noble class from your home planet. At least your retinue of Stormtroopers remains behind you, loyal to a fault.

The sound of boots reach your ears and a young woman comes into view, the bands on her arm suggesting her rank of Lieutenant if you remembered correctly. Stopping in front of you, she bows slightly and you give an indulgent smile at the action.

“Good evening Lady Hux, I’m Lieutenant Stynnix. General Hux has asked me to take you to your quarters and help get you settled in.” She says, clearly impressed or at least interested in you and your dress. You bristle anyway, the insult of your own husband not coming to greet you being more important. Clearing your throat, you nod in her direction and follow her out of the landing bay and towards the officer’s quarters.

You don’t pay attention as she guides you through corridors and in lifts. You’ll make the General give you a tour later. This would be a way to speak to him and also annoy him, and you were always an expert at multitasking. Using a code you didn’t know, Lieutenant Stynnix opens the doors to General Hux’s quarters.

“The General has provided you with a datapad. All of the codes you’ll need are there, as well as a few forms you’ll need to fill out for your medical profile. You can set up your fingerprint analysis with this and send messages to anyone on the ship within your clearance level.” She explains, handing you a shiny black datapad, bigger than your hand but not unwieldy. You want to sound petty and ask exactly what clearance level your husband had so thoughtfully assigned you to, but you hold your tongue.

The quarters were large, certainly comfortable for two people. The doors opened to a sitting area, sparsely furnished. There was a low coffee table and one black leather chair. There was no artwork but there was a floor to ceiling wall of transparisteel, showing the beautiful stars as you traveled through space. Across from the coffee table and against the other wall was a light blue couch that looked uncomfortable. You admired the color, interested at it’s addition in such a utilitarian room. Next to the transparisteel wall was a simple desk, covered in flimsi and models. It was neat and organized and you wondered if moving something over an inch would set a klaxon off. There were doors leading to other rooms, probably the bedroom and refresher, maybe a kitchen?

You turn in a circle, the silver and pink cape of your traveling dress twirling around you. It wasn’t a perfect space, far from it, but it could work. It just needed a feminine touch and some warmth; you could provide that. 

“Yes, this will do quite nicely I think. Thank you Lieutenant Stynnix. I appreciate you getting me settled in. You’ll have to forgive me though, I’m very tired. I would like to unpack, start filling out those forms, perhaps even eat something.” You say, putting your hands on your hips. 

“Of course my Lady. If you’re hungry, you can call up for a droid. The control panel for the lighting and temperature in your quarters is next to the door. The General has tasked me with acclimating you to life aboard a starship so if you need anything please feel free to send me a message.” She says with a click of her heels and a salute. You’re about to apologize for the task of babysitting you but instead she seems proud of her assignment. You decide you like Lieutenant Stynnix and having her in your corner will be a benefit. Plus, it’s always nice to have other women to talk to.

You thank her again, kindly and sincerely, and she leaves. Your bags are sitting on the floor next to the door and you let your shoulders sag. Sinking down on the blue couch, you make a noise in surprise at it’s comfort. Like everything else in this room, it looks hard and more for show than actual use. A beeping sound starts and a mouse droid enters, zooming around the room before stopping at your feet. 

“Yes?” You ask, amused at the little droid. It rolls back and forth for a moment before a transmission plays.

“This is a message from General Hux of the First Order. Welcome aboard the Finalizer. I will return to my quarters at the end of my shift. 1900 hours. Please prepare yourself to meet the troops. Fill out the forms.” The automated message repeats and you break out into laughter. What a romantic, your husband was. Still, it would be exciting to stand in front of the assembly of the First Order. Your first introduction as their Queen, even if they didn’t know it. You do have some time to change but you decide against it. It will seem more cost conscious and humble if you appear in your travel attire. Besides, it was extravagant enough to work for a simple address.

“Yes, I will. Thank you.” You respond, reaching down to pat the little mouse droid. It chirps as if used to such treatment and retreats back into it’s charging station. More pieces are added to the puzzle that is your husband. It was never a bad thing to be kind to droids and it suggested kindness in other areas that would hopefully be revealed to you soon enough. 

There was a chronometer on the desk and you realize the General will be returning sooner than you thought. Now that was something you’d have to speak to him about. You knew he didn’t like his first name but you certainly couldn’t call him “the General” for the rest of your life. Perhaps he had a nickname or enjoyed endearments? You’d have to ask him at some point, lest you embarrass him. You barely liked the man but you needed to appear united, and him jumping in shock if you called him Snookums on the bridge would work against that.

Squaring your shoulders with resolve, you get up and explore the rest of the rooms. You’re right about the doors. One leads to a small galley kitchen filled with more mugs than usable cooking equipment. That works for you; used to being served meals. Your husband likes Tarine tea and apparently nothing else. It suits him, the thought of the bitter tea making your tongue go dry in your mouth. It was almost sad, how much of General Hux’s life lacked sweetness and comfort. Did the man do anything for the simple pleasure of it? When you made him Emperor would he even enjoy it? 

Slamming a cabinet door and stalking out of the kitchen, you avoid the idea. Opening the door to the bedroom, something makes you pause before entering. You suddenly remember your wedding night, the shame and anger coiling inside of you. From the doorway you can see that it’s a simple room featuring a large bed with black sheets and two night tables. There is a dresser and an armoire and you wonder if your clothing will even fit there. Your clothing and various accessories are very important to you and you will not give them up. There is an open archway leading off to what you assume is the refresher but you close the door and return to the sitting area. The bedroom is not for you and you feel unwelcome trying to force your way in right now. 

How horrible of your husband; to make you feel so unsettled in your own home! That’s your bedroom too and yet you avoid it like the bed will swallow you whole. You’re probably safer in there then out by his desk. He certainly wouldn’t touch you among the sheets if his past behavior was anything to go off of. You feel the urge to cry suddenly; the emotion strange and choking but you hold back. Now is not the time, especially at the start of your journey. You have no reason to cry, everything is going well. Just because your husband refused to greet you in person and has a dark, bleak home doesn’t mean you can break down. You don’t even know why you need to cry anyway; nothing is wrong, nothing bad has happened. You unpack and attempt to imagine your life here instead.

In what seems like the blink of an eye, a beep sounds and the door opens. You stand and face your husband as he enters, your hands resting at your sides to avoid fiddling with your dress or jewelry. His eyes scan your form briefly, more mechanical than appreciating, but you can’t help the way your heart skips when his bright eyes meet yours. The uniform is not a very attractive one and not even necessarily flattering but it fits him impeccably and you admire the striking figure he presents with his greatcoat. Were you other people, you’d run to his arms and kiss him madly. But you’re not other people, you don’t want his love, just his participation and obedience. 

Still, you smile as he walks towards you, pleasant and welcoming. He removes his hat and tucks it under his arm. He is speechless and you’re not quite sure why. Has the sight of you after so many long months truly arrested him? You didn’t think he considered your beauty that amazing but you would take the silence for what it was.

“Welcome home, it’s so wonderful to see you again.” You breathe out with all the sweetness you can muster. There’s no reason for you to put on an act for him, he knows of your ambitions but seeing him in person has made you want to be affectionate. You have been alone for four months.

“I hope you had a safe and comfortable journey. You look well. I know the officers are eager to meet you after my speech. As for everything else, we can discuss it later. Do you need more time to get ready? This will be broadcast to the First Order systems.” He says, before breaking away from you and going over to his desk. He moves a sheet of flimsi over to the left and you smirk behind his back. 

“No, I’m alright. Unless you don’t think this is appropriate? I’m used to galas and lunch gatherings, not addressing the entirety of the military and government. Perhaps I’ll add a circlet?” You ask, not caring about the answer at all. You want to get this over with, you want to discuss your progress and start the next phase of your plan.

“It’s fine, your dress is very becoming and fitting of your status.” He says brusquely before softening a little. He seems to consider his behavior and his shoulders drop causing you to freeze in shock. 

“Forgive me, it’s been a very long day and I won’t deny that I’m tired. (Y/N), you look very beautiful and I’m glad you’re here. I’ve enjoyed talking with you these past few months and I look forward to doing it in person. I am proud to introduce you to my fellow officers and subordinates. Please, let’s go.” He says, the ice that surrounds him melting a little. You give a genuine smile and give him your hand. The leather of his gloves feels warm against your own gloves and while he doesn’t smile in return, his gaze is less severe. He looks so young this way, so approachable. Were he any other man, you could see yourself falling in love with him.

Heading towards the bridge is an interesting exercise. Everyone must have been alerted to your presence because Stormtroopers salute and bow as you both pass and officers move out of the way to let you ahead. This is the behavior you were expecting and you give them all elegant nods. Perhaps it’s not true respect, just marvel at your unstandard dress, but you’d take their approval in whatever way you could. 

Entering the bridge causes a hush to fall over the room and you give a soft smile in response. Glancing at your husband, he leads down a walkway and towards the windows. The stars will be your backdrop as you’re introduced to your future subjects. You see Lieutenant Stynnix and give her a playful wink; she blushes. 

They’re setting up the cameras when you finally come face to face with Kylo Ren. He is ominous, tall and dark with an unforgiving mask. Your hand twitches with the urge to touch it and feel the grooves. You’re not sure if his title is one of actual nobility but you curtsy anyway. 

“Lord Ren, it’s nice to finally meet you. The General has mentioned you often and I’m eager to know if his assessment of you was correct. I have a feeling you will exceed any expectations I have and I look forward to getting acquainted.” You say, keeping your voice soft and mind blank. You were told that Kylo Ren could read minds and so you thought of simple things to make him skip over you. You thought of unpacking and cleaning your quarters, your nervousness at addressing the Order, your husband’s profile against the blackness of space. 

Kylo Ren’s only response was to cock his head at you and then walk away towards a corner. You feign confusion and disappointment and turn back to General Hux. It seemed the Force user was a very different kind of beast. You wonder if your family would be watching the broadcast and the thought fills you with malicious glee.

The address actually had nothing to do with you but this would be your first appearance in front of the First Order. There would be a little placard under the footage of you, declaring your new name and place in the universe. 

A throat clears and you face the camera as a red light turns on. General Hux squeezes your hand and steps forward towards the center of the bridge. There were a few cameras moving around and one was focused solely on you.

You were live in front of the galaxy, your galaxy, and the surge of pride that entered your being caused a sparkle in your eyes that people would talk about for decades to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If asked about it, you wouldn’t be able to say what your husband talked about. During his speech, you focused on keeping your face pleasant but neutral while occasionally sending adoring looks his way. Let them think you vapid and simple, let them underestimate you. They would learn the truth in time.

After the broadcast ends, Hux in a surprisingly display of cleverness and foresight, returns to you and takes your hand. You don’t expect him to kiss you in happy exhilaration; it would be out of character for the staid man. But showing the crew small affectations of intimacy would endear you to them. 

You’d done your research on the troop’s view of General Hux, especially after Starkiller. You wouldn’t have been surprised if they hated him, distrusted him, and ignored him. But instead, it seemed like the crew respected him more. They admired him for his calm under pressure and his acknowledgement of failure. They didn’t believe Starkiller was his fault and gave him more trust and loyalty. The First Order loved General Hux with a level of fanaticism that inspired you. 

If they thought he loved you and respected you, they’d fall in line. All you had to do was keep up a good reputation and blush in front of your husband a few times and they’d support you in your endeavors. They would listen to your flesh and blood General before the flickering image of Snoke. While your path to power wouldn’t be easy or quick, it was nice to have built in supporters.

Several officers approach you, awe in their eyes. Lieutenant Mitaka stammers out a hello and bows far too deeply to you as did the other younger officers. The older colonels and captains address your husband first before grasping your hand with approval. The female officers compliment your dress and composure. Captain Phasma, resplendent in chrome approaches but does not bow or genuflect. 

“Welcome aboard the Finalizer Lady Hux. Your work the past few months has not gone unnoticed and the Stromtroopers who you traveled with spoke very warmly of you.” Her modulated voice giving no indication of her emotion. You hate all these masks, they make you feel so uneasy.

“Thank you Captain. The same goes for you. Your Troopers are expertly trained and I felt well protected with them. I didn’t expect anything less from someone as revered and respected as you.” You say, looking up and up at her. General Hux’s hand touches briefly at your lower back before moving away and the gesture is unexpectedly sweet. 

The parade of people you have to meet seems never ending but at last it does. As General Hux leads you back towards your quarters, you recognize your path. Learning this ship is easier than you thought, though you’re sure if left to your own devices you would get lost.

“I’ve ordered dinner for us. I imagine you must be hungry.” He says as the pneumatic doors close behind you. He removes his hat again and places it on a table before heading into the bedroom. At a loss for what to do, you follow him, breaching the threshold.

“Yes, thank you. I am hungry.” You assume you’ll eat at the small table in the kitchen. There’s no space for entertaining here and that makes you frown. You’re not expecting to throw dinner parties but as a wife and nothing more for the time being, your home will be your work space. Perhaps you could commandeer a meeting room for such an occasion and only focus on small groups for the sitting area.

He nods at your agreement and taps out a few things on his datapad before taking off his gloves and laying them gently on a night table. His side obviously; it’s already been chosen for you. The sight of his bare hands stuns you and you sink to the bed unknowingly. There is an elegance to his pale hands, a grace to the long fingers and short, manicured nails. You wonder if they’re as soft as they look and if they will be as cold as the rest of him. He doesn’t notice you staring as he disrobes, or if he does, he doesn’t comment on it. 

The greatcoat comes off next and he looks so much smaller without it. He looks less like the megalomaniac you know him to be and more like a regular person. Even without the breadth his coat affords him, you still enjoy the shape of his body. You like a man you can overpower. There is something effortlessly beautiful about your husband, a sharpness to his features that shifts into curves and keeps him from looking too old and severe. His nose and cheekbones lend an aristocratic air to him while his tapered waist spoke of good proportions and decent breeding. His hair would need some work, the vibrant color dulled by gel and plastered to his skull. You understood that there were certain rules about grooming but even just a little less would be nice. His hairline was strong, he luckily wouldn’t go bald too soon. Yes, you could enjoy seeing him age, that much you decide.

“Dinner should be here in a few minutes. You can put your clothes in here, although I fear we may have to get another one if all your dresses go out like that.” He says with good humor, gesturing to the armoire. You couldn’t decide if you were offended by the statement or in agreement. You did have dresses with fuller skirts and flamboyant sleeves- though you were no Padme Amidala- so another bureau or armoire would probably come in handy. You’d need at least two drawers for your jewelry and headpieces alone. 

The door chimes and General Hux leaves the bedroom, you following quickly behind. A droid enters pushing a cart and he directs it to the kitchen. It smelled surprisingly delicious, and the relief you felt at not having to eat the officer’s rations was palpable. General Hux smirks knowingly before setting the covered platters down and thanking the droid. A surge of affection went through you at that, charmed by his behavior. 

“I wasn’t sure what you liked but I knew you wouldn’t eat the normal meals officer’s get. Perhaps you could make a list of food you prefer and we’ll get that to the cooks for the future.” He says, taking off the covers to reveal a fragrant and juicy looking fowl with colorful vegetables and mashed tubers. His own meal was a protein pack and the strange sludge you knew the officers ate in the mess hall. It almost put you off your own dinner. How sad, that he was the leader of the First Order and he still ate the same things his lowest subordinates ate. His tastebuds must be shot. 

Him having better tasting meals wasn’t necessary to your plan but it would make you feel better. His well-being mattered to you and it would be very uncouth for an Emperor to still be eating rations when everyone around him was eating penne all’arrabbiata. You would improve everything in his life, get him used to the luxury of his new life.

You eat in comfortable silence, commenting on the food occasionally. It seemed that outside of his grandiose speeches, your husband was not a talker. Better for you, you had plenty to talk about.

After dinner, he sets the trays back onto the cart and wheels it outside for a droid to return to the kitchen. An awkward air settles around you as you wait for him to do something, anything. He goes to his desk and turns on a projector, fingers tapping at his datapad. Apparently it is time for work.

Throwing your hands up with a groan, you go to the bedroom to change into sleep clothes. You might as well be comfortable. If your nightgown also happens to be very flattering and thin, then that was a coincidence. You return quietly to his desk, looking at the spinning holograms for a moment before turning his chair around to face you. His look of consternation makes you chuckle. 

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough work for today? You promised we would talk and I have a lot to say. There’s so much to figure out. All of this can wait.” You say, knowing that you could be wrong and he could rebuff you like your wedding night. But he doesn’t disagree or yell at you. Instead, he gets up and leads you towards the blue couch. Curling up on the cushion, legs tucked underneath you, he retreats to the bedroom. You’re about to start screaming about his cowardice at abandoning you once again when you realize he’s getting into his sleep clothes as well. Through the open door you watch him remove his boots with a jack and the sight of his socked feet strikes you as so vulnerable and innocent. You don’t see him remove any other clothing and you don’t know whether to be grateful or discontented with that.

He returns to the couch, and to you, in a simple black shirt and soft black pants. Does the First Order make no other clothing? Is everything black and red and white with the occasional grey? No wonder they all stared at your colorful gown.

He reclines next to you and settles a gentle hand on your knee. You can’t feel it through your gown and you keep yours in your lap. You are still conflicted in your desire to be close to him.

“Tell me about your trip, (Y/N). What do we control and what comes next?” He asks, your name coming from his lips making your skin buzz. Any anger or annoyance you experienced earlier dissipates and a smile appears on your face, wide and wicked.

“We control it all. Ando and Atollon are under the First Order banner, as are Iego and their moons. I went to Eriadu and spoke with many older Empire families and they are in full support of the First Order’s current conquests though they still seem bitter about losing Hosnian Prime. Despite the fact that the planet was the home of the New Republic, they miss the exports. We should look into replacements. It may seem silly but we need the support of the Empire. We need their money and their influence, especially on the Core Worlds.” You say, grabbing your data pad off the coffee table and showing him the current statistics. They weren’t one hundred percent accurate but they gave a good overview of the First Order’s reach across the galaxy. Your finger swiped across the screen, showing him the profiles of the people in charge and the current approval rating. All in all, it was very promising. 

“Excellent. I’m glad the families on Eriadu didn’t cause you too much trouble. I find them exhausting and foolish but you’re not wrong. We do need them, as much as I loathe to admit it. Promise me that when we take control we’ll ship them off to a work camp or an ice planet and ignore them.” He asks, rubbing his eyes. The brief show of his exhaustion causes a flare of worry to rise in you. 

You gently remove his hand and kiss his fingertips, correct in your assessment that they were cold. He doesn’t stop you, moving his hand to caress your cheek. It’s the most he has ever touched you. It’s a lot for him to do this, you can tell. It’s obvious that the General has never known soft and gentle touch. Unlike on the bridge when everyone was watching, his movements here are hesitant and slow. You reward him for his bravery by turning your head in his grip and kissing his palm. It warms under your lips and you think it’s a fitting metaphor. 

His face is still and calm but his eyes have taken on a peculiar quality. It is intrigue but of a different kind than you’ve seen before. It thrills you and gives you hope that this could perhaps become a true marriage. You would’ve been happy with just a understanding partnership filled with contentment. But his reaction to you suggested more. Your kiss turns into a bite and he raises a red eyebrow in challenge.

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Tumblr: [X](http://www.aweirdlookingtree.tumblr.com)  
> Fic Pinterest: [X](https://www.pinterest.com/briellecari/potential-au/)


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What starts off as a wonderful evening turns into a vicious fight. Can you and General Hux reconcile your differences to keep your plan afloat?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd so please excuse any mistakes.
> 
> Originally posted March 22, 2020.

The evening had started so promising and lovely. It was a simple gala to raise funds for the Order and a chance for you to meet the Council and higher Admirals. While General Hux did take direct orders from Supreme Leader Snoke, most decisions that concerned the First Order had to get approved by the Council. There were many nights where you listened to your husband rant about their incompetence and lack of foresight. Anything involving finances or major operations needed their say-so, and they did not grant it often. They were old members of the Imperial Army, kept fat by ancestral money and tarnishing reputations. You needed to figure out which ones to keep and which ones were expendable. When you took over you’d probably get rid of the Council entirely but for now they had power over the General and you needed to show respect. 

Your husband had kept an arm around your waist almost the whole evening and you felt as though you were floating through the night. You were singing his praises, extolling triumph and virtue upon him and the First Order. Every nod in agreement was a credit in the coffers and point in your favor. Then it all went wrong.

You had stepped away to use the refresher and then gotten waylaid by some Colonel’s wife. While you found the lot of them vapid, you understood their usefulness in influencing their husband’s opinions, and so you spent a good few minutes exchanging pleasantries and gossip. They were loose with their tongues after some wine and you quickly learned how loyal some of the more affluent members were and to whom they were loyal. A good number viewed Snoke with indifference and merely cared about gaining control of the Galaxy again. They would follow General Hux before Snoke if the ideas were good enough and the rewards were large enough. These bloated old men just wanted the glory of the Empire restored and the status quo kept. You wouldn’t be doing that, but why burst their bubble so soon.

Excusing yourself, you searched the large hall for the flash of red that was your husband and found him talking with a handsome older gentleman. His eyes caught yours and your heart skipped a beat against your will. Under the glowing lights of the banquet hall, his cheeks flushed from the good food and drink, your husband looked resplendent. He was so full of vitality and power, oh your heart suddenly ached to be close to him. He would be magnificent when you gave him the helm of the galaxy.

“Ah, there you are my dear.” He said, grabbing your hand and rubbing your knuckles before pulling you to him and placing his hand back on your waist. The touch, even through your dress, was scorching. Touch with him always seemed to be one step forward, two steps back. He would kiss your hand or forehead every night before you retired but he never pushed further. Sometimes you would sit together in the evening after his shift, knees touching but if you even tried to get closer he would pull away. You couldn’t figure out why. If he wasn’t attracted to women, you wouldn’t have been offended. But if he wasn’t attracted to you, you’d rather know sooner than later. The rejection was starting to sting and you desperately craved some kind of intimacy. 

“Forgive me for leaving you. I got a bit distracted by Colonel Paru’s wife. She just came back from Naboo and had so much to tell me.” You say bashfully, looking at the other man. He smiled but it did not reach his eyes. You turn towards your husband in a subtle move of solidarity.

“Not at all (Y/N), I was just speaking with Allegiant General Pryde.” Hux replies, pushing against your back towards your guest. Extending your hand gracefully, you allow Pryde to take it in a strong grip. His stare was very cold and dismissive.

“How nice to meet you Allegiant General. How are you enjoying the party?” You ask pleasantly, pulling your hand back with a strained smile. While you enjoyed socializing and subtly employing your influence, you were tired. Everyone around you felt like a statue, so stiff and impersonal. It reminded you too much of your mother’s parties, where everyone was trying to vye for meager power and hid behind invisible masks.

“It’s quite the glittering assemblage Lady Hux, made all the more beautiful by your inclusion. I was just telling your husband how lucky he was to have you as a wife. Not all of us are content to remain bachelors. How he can focus on his missions with such a becoming woman on his arm is admirable.” He said with a rueful chuckle that seemed fake and incendiary. You blush and look towards your General in exaggerated adoration but his face has gone tight. A few more people come over to join your conversation, clearly wanting to get in good with Pryde.

“Yes I suppose if one is forced to be wed, (Y/N) is an acceptable partner. Do not envy me, General Pryde, married life comes with it’s own struggles. The First Order and the Supreme Leader’s vision must always come first and I assure you, they do.” His hand drops from your waist and your smile follows it.

“In the next cycle I plan to pitch a great new weapon to the Supreme Leader that will cement the First Order’s place in the galaxy and take out the pitiful Resistance in one fell swoop. No one, certainly not an insipid girl obsessed with dresses and galas, can keep me from my purpose. My marriage is only proof that the galaxy needs the First Order, the crumbling Imperial kingdoms returned to their rightful place through the Supreme Leader’s brilliance. They could not do so without our strength and power. We have been extending our reach throughout the galaxy and soon we will be unstoppable.” He says, his eyes seeing far beyond the crowd that surrounds you, his fists tightening in their gloves. He has the look of fervor that comes over him when he makes a speech in front of the Stormtroopers. Pryde’s insinuation has insulted him and in response he is insulting you.

“Come now General, are you really that derisive of your wife? I managed to catch her speech on Ando and I found it very eloquent and inspiring. The First Order needs more than weapons to bring the people to it’s might.” A Major pipes up, though his comment does little to improve your mood.

Hux scoffs and stands in parade rest, a tell you’ve noticed him doing when he feels unprepared and uneasy. It gives him comfort to stand so tall and still and you clench your fists to stop yourself from pushing him over.

“My wife is skilled in many things, that is true. While we do have more systems under our banner because of her tour, I am sure they would have succumbed to our power regardless. Wars are won with strategies, not lunch meetings.” His accent has started to sound ridiculously crisp and pompous and you long to pull his hair and make him groan like a wounded animal.

The other men are agreeing with him, asking about this weapon that is news to you, commenting on how ridiculous their wives are with their clothes and petty squabbles. The noise rises to a static sound, everything becoming muffled as though you are underwater. Your vision tunnels on your husband’s face, severe and uncaring. He turns to you and gives you a look of such contempt and distaste, your gasp of hurt is clearly audible.

“I’m going home now, please excuse me.” You say quietly but full of venom, before turning on your heel and breaking away from the group. Laughter follows your departure and you tighten your lips in order to stop yourself from crying. You knew the General could be harsh, but never imagined it would be towards you. And to insult your intelligence and your partnership, to bring up a brand new idea out of nowhere, to hurt you so badly in front of your peers, cut deeper than any physical wound.

Pushing through throngs of people, you don’t excuse yourself or explain. Your happiness at the beginning of the evening is waning. Your beautiful pink gown, with it’s large skirt and train is a hindrance to you, slowing your escape. You’re so focused on getting past a large group of women in similarly large dresses, that you don’t see Lord Ren until he grabs your arm to stop you.

His mask offers you nothing though his grip is tight but not painful. You push your hand against his and try to pull away. He is an unyielding mountain in your path.

“Lady Hux, you-” He starts to say, the robotic voice sounding almost soft. But you’re close to crying and you will not embarrass yourself any further. Lacking any fear that you would normally have in this scenario, you manage to break free of his hold.

“Don’t talk to me. I refuse to suffer any more indignities tonight. Surely your reproach can wait.” You bark out before quickly running out the door. You do not see the way his eyes follow your retreat or the glare he levels at your husband.

You leave the party in silence and you return to your rooms in silence. He has not chosen to follow you and the dismissal is one more barb against you. If he thinks you’re going to forget about this by the time he gets back, he is sorely mistaken. Glancing around the room, your eyes catch all of his possessions, meager as they are, and you long to destroy them. But you won’t, you have consideration for people. 

You rip off your tiara and sit down on the couch in a huff of silk instead. You’ll wait for him, pacing around your quarters and your temper getting higher and higher. How dare he humiliate you like that, in front of all those important people? And what of this new weapon? Did he have plans outside of the ones you made together? Why didn’t he tell you? Why didn’t he trust you? 

An hour of this circular thought passes before the door opens again and he enters. You were sure you looked a mess, hair falling out of it’s style and face lined from worry. He doesn’t spare you a glance before taking off his gloves and setting them on the small table by the door like he always does. You hate him so deeply in that moment, the color of his hair fills your vision and you wonder if he can hear the warning bells pealing.

Your husband doesn’t say much, quite surprising considering how much he was talking earlier, and goes over to the liquor cabinet. He pours a drink for himself and does not offer you something, how typical. Though you wouldn’t take a drink even if he did; your head already feels hazy.

The memories of tonight start to swirl and bubble in your brain as you watch him take off his outerwear and settle at his desk. He’s not going to acknowledge you or your anger and that only fuels your fire. You push off the couch and up to his desk, sweeping an arm across the surface and knocking everything to the ground. His chair screeches against the floor as he stands abruptly.

“How dare you! That’s my work, you can’t just do that. You could break it.” He shouts, pointing a finger in your face. You relish his irritation, happy for some kind of reaction.

“How dare I? You can’t just ignore me after what you did. You don’t get to act like I’m some silly girl with hurt feelings! You blindsided me in front of all the Admirals and governors and made me look like an idiot. We’re supposed to be a team and you treated me like a stupid subordinate.” You shout, backing away from him and running to the bedroom. The door stays open because your fight isn’t over yet.

“You told Pryde about some new weapon you have, about your plans. What new weapon? I thought we agreed we were going to focus on taking as much ground as possible. We decided that gaining land and territories was more important than some large show of violent power. Are you drunk? You almost gave away our true ideas to the men we’re trying to get rid of!” You say through the open door, struggling to take off your dress. He makes a move as if to join you and help but you hold a hand up to stop him. Somehow you manage and glare at him in your slip, the chill of your quarters only adding to the loneliness that surrounds you. He scoffs again, the sound jarring.

“You’re just cross because I didn’t include you in my plan. Not everything in my life needs to concern you and clearly you don’t have the acumen to understand it.” Hux replies, focusing more on the items you pushed off his desk than you. It’s a small thing but the fact that he won’t even look at you as you yell is what snaps something inside of you. Running out of the bedroom, you slap him hard across the face. He lets out a gasp of shock and you kick a leg out to knock him to the ground. Flat on his back, you get on top of him settling your weight on his stomach. 

“Listen to me, you pompous foolish child! You would have nothing without me. I _made_ you! You would have no plan without me! You came to me begging for credits and I gave you purpose. I don’t need you, any high ranking official would’ve worked, but I chose you. Snoke would find you lacking and kill you soon enough. You need _me_! I won’t let you diminish me and toss me aside.” You sneer, your hands coming up to grab at his neck. You don’t squeeze but the small pressure you place is a reminder. He pushes against you, clearly not impressed with your behavior. He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off.

“You want to rule the galaxy and get rid of Snoke, then you better start showing me some respect. I am not a stupid girl and you should be defending me in front of the Council! Pryde is your competition and a block in our path and you want to cozy up to him? Have some conviction in your goals!” You demand before he flips your positions, his body hovering above you. His hands push your wrists up above your head and against the hard floor as his legs bracket yours. Apparently it’s his turn to speak.

“How dare you strike me! I could kill you with barely any energy expended. Your ideas only work with me and you know it. You needed someone with power and an audience with Snoke to get what you want. You _need_ me! I have every right to look at you and your weaknesses with contempt because they’re obvious. You say I have potential and yet you refuse to let me plot my own future. I was doing just fine before you came along and I will do just fine after you’re gone.” He yells back, spittle dropping onto your face as you squirm. His face is turning red with rage. You aren’t afraid per se, but you do feel uncertain. You’ve never seen him so incensed and certainly not at you. 

It dawns on you then why he’s so incensed and why he’s fighting back with you like this. If he truly felt this way, he would’ve gotten rid of you long ago. This whole evening has shaken him and a smile forms as you laugh in his face. 

“You are so transparent! You’ve realized you’re replaceable and you’re scared. You can’t hide from me General. You know that there’s nothing special about you and that I could become Empress with anyone else. Perhaps I should drop you and move on to someone like Pryde. He has true ambition. Or maybe I should leave you for Kylo Ren and back someone with actual power instead of a boy playing at General and begging for approval from Daddy. At least one of them might actually fuck me and make all this worth it.” His eyes widen and he rears back, his grip loosening. You use his surprise against him and grip his face with your nails. You hope he bleeds from the sharp points. No one speaks for a moment, the air around you is hot and tense.

It is eerily silent as his hand slides up to your neck. It does not push or squeeze, it just sits there in warning. A flash of fear enters you and the spark of triumph in his eyes makes you positive he’s seen it. You feel like he can see right through you in that moment, can see through to your very soul and pick up your deepest insecurities.

“Is that what this is about? Is that why you’re so upset?” He coos, his voice dark and low. He’s mocking you and your heart hammers inside your chest. His cheek is still pink where you slapped him and he pulls your hand away, the white indentations from your nails fading.

“You just need someone to fuck you and put you in your place huh? Someone to remind you that you’re important? My dear you could have just asked, I would’ve fucked you in a heartbeat if I knew it would keep you behaved.” He murmurs, his face very close to yours. You swallow down your disgust and mortification.

“I don’t want you to fuck me to keep me quiet. I want you to respect me and my ideas. I want you to acknowledge what I’m doing for you. I want us to be a united pair! I want you to fuck me because you care about me!” You plead, the fight in you draining in the face of his ridicule.

“I don’t know where this is coming from,” You continue, “we were working so well before and now, now you’re being very cruel. I didn’t think you would ever be like this. We’re supposed to work together.” You sigh, your body drooping and, to your horror, tears start to fall.

With tears clouding your vision, you don’t see the breaking of his cold facade or the guilt in his eyes. He pulls away and since his body was the only thing holding you up, you collapse onto the floor again, crying. The emotional whiplash of the evening has caught up with you.

All you wanted was to be important, to make change in the galaxy. You just wanted someone to listen and care about you. You thought that General Hux could give you that but clearly not. He was just going to use you like everyone else. You were nothing more than a bargaining chip for your parents, a pretty broodmare for some politician or soldier. But Hux, you were going to give him everything and all you wanted in return was someone to give you some control and freedom over your own life.

“(Y/N)… I…” He stammers out and you realize that you just said that all out loud. But what’s more degradation? What’s more pain? You keep your face down, speaking your anguish at the floor instead of the person causing it like the scared little girl you are.

“You already know my plan, you don’t need me. You can throw me out of the airlock and leave me to my fate. I can’t stand this anymore. You’ve ignored me for weeks and now you insult me and almost ruin anything. I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment.” You choke out. 

Then, a change. Hux lifts you from the floor and holds you against his chest. You stop crying in surprise and look up at him hesitantly as he brings you to the bedroom. Setting you down gently on the bed, he pulls off his boots and sits down next to you. He hands you a tissue and you wipe at your face. The man in front of you is a stranger and you come to grips with how little you know about him.

Your husband looks very young right now, and you remember his age. He’s done so much in such a short amount of time, his inexperience is showing. You’re both children playing at being adults, playing at being Gods.

“I’m sorry.” He says quietly in the darkness of your bedroom. You look at him from the corner of your eye. “Before you came over, General Pryde was speaking to me and he was undermining my latest choices. I was very angry and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have. You’re right, we should be a team. Everything that you said was right. I do need you and I should be more considerate of you.” The words sound difficult for him to say but he’ll receive no comfort from you.

“I am replaceable.” The word echoes around the room and the horrible truth of it is written across his face. It’s hard to come to terms with your own lack of importance, but it was a lesson he had to learn. Or at least, as he was doing now, admit out loud. To be truly great, you would have to bring him up from nothing and he had to let you.

“So much is riding on this,” He continues, his fingers digging into his palms, “I don’t want to fail before we even begin. We could be discovered for our treason and killed. I’ve been a disappointment all my life, I would never want to make you feel that way. I want to succeed and I think seeing you this evening, charming everyone and looking so beautiful, it made me realize how little I actually do. Ever since Starkiller, I’ve felt so adrift. Snoke is giving me nothing and I’m following the barest traces of the Resistance in order to have something to oversee. I feel useless in the face of your ambitions.” He closes his eyes and swallows. His drink is back in the sitting room.

Knowing his habits, you carefully open his hands to stop him from hurting himself more. You lean over and kiss each palm and each fingertip, still unsure of what you want in this moment. He pulls his hands away and stretches out to lie fully on the bed. It is the first time you’ve ever seen him do it. Hux has not joined you in the bedroom the whole time you’ve been on the Finalizer and the dark circles under his eyes lead you to believe he may have been sleeping on the couch.

You shuffle down as well, lying next to him in the grey light the stars give you. You yawn, feeling the exhaustion from the whole evening come over you. You clear your throat, wiping at your face again.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel useless or stupid. I want so badly for this to work that I guess I took over without thinking of your needs and position. I’m doing this for you but that doesn’t mean I get to make all the decisions.” You whisper, turning your head to look at him. His eyes are still closed and he takes in a breath through his nose. 

He finally turns to face you, regarding you nervously. The normal verdant green of his eyes has turned into a darker shade, but they are still so expressive and beautiful to you. Even in your anger and sadness, he is breathtaking to you.

“Why me? Why am I so special? Why put all your energy into making me Emperor? This plan will uproot everything and change the power systems of the galaxy. Why bother?” He questions, sounding very scared and exposed. You scoot closer to him, your noses almost touching. One of your hands comes to caress at his cheek, the same one you hit only minutes before. He does not flinch and you sigh in relief.

“Because you are special. I was wrong to say otherwise. You hurt me and I wanted to hurt you back. You are so smart and capable and you’ve worked so hard to make the First Order great. You deserve to be in charge, to rule it all. You have so much potential and I wanted to help you towards greatness. I wanted to help you in the naive hope that you’d take me along.” You admit, brushing back some of his hair. It had come out of it’s gelled style sometime around the end of the party and you like it better this way.

“No, you were right. You are right about everything. I’m sorry I hurt you, the things I said were cruel and they were meant to hurt you. I knew what I was doing. I’m only special because you believe me to be,” He says, his voice breaking with emotion, “Everyone knows how worthless I really am. My father saw it and my instructors saw it, Snoke and the Council see-” 

You kiss him then, unable and unwilling to restrain yourself. His lips are dry and soft under your own and he freezes next to you. You’re about to pull away, convinced you’ve made a huge error and everything really would be ruined, when his arms come around you and pull you flush against his body.

Your kiss becomes one of passion and yearning, making up for lost time. You have to reassure him that you care and he has to continue to apologize. You surge against him, trying to make every inch of your body touch his. You kiss and kiss again, biting and sucking at each other’s lips, pulling away to breathe only when you have to.

He mumbles out apologies between kisses, his hands traveling up and down your back. You shush him with kisses to his cheeks, his nose, his jaw. A moan breaks the silence and you realize it’s coming from you. The sound spurs him on and he lowers his head to kiss your neck.

“Yes, oh yes my darling, please. Leave a mark.” You gasp, your other hand coming up to tangle in his hair. But he doesn’t do anything in response except pull away. Breathing heavily, you look at him in confusion.

“Say it again… please.” He whispers, his eyes darting to your lips. There is a brief moment where your brain tries to catch up and then it clicks. You lean forward and kiss him softly.

“Darling, darling. My sweet darling. You’re so good, you’re so smart, I just adore you darling.” You whisper against his skin. The bite against your neck is it’s own reward. Any pain he bestows, he instantly soothes with his lips and tongue. It’s a very good apology so far.

“Let me show you how much you mean to me.” He whispers, the glow from the viewport illuminating you both. You nod, words bubbling up in your throat. You throw a hand over your mouth to stop them from escaping. You’re not ready yet and neither is he. But one day soon, you’ll say them. You’ll sear them into his skin and melt them against his lips. You’ll breathe them into his lungs and hear them repeated back to you. Not now, but someday you will.

Time passes strangely on a starship. With nothing but the cold, vastness of space at every viewport, a person has to rely on chronometers and artificial sunlight to remind them of the change. Time on a ship both rushes ahead and slows to a crawl and if you’re not careful, you can lose track of it all.

So perhaps it was only minutes that you and General Hux lay together on the bed, tucked beneath the blankets and enveloped within each other. Or maybe it was hours, officers from the late night shift saying good night and good morning to the ones replacing them. 

Or it could have been days. Days wrapped up in each other, sighing and moaning as you chased your release. Days passing as you learned the dips and peaks of each other’s bodies and tasted skin and sweat and more. Days full of changes to your relationship, to your desires, to your feelings. Days that seemed to never end, and yet, were over in a blink.

When you finally finish, lying quietly next to each other and marveling at the ages old pastime that you have discovered, your husband turns to face you. Mirroring his pose, your bodies become commas giving you space to breathe.

“If you ever strike me again, I’ll cut your hand off.” He says, matter of fact. The words sink in as you gaze at his profile, admiring the rare look of peace.

“If you ever humiliate me again, I’ll frame you for treason and take the throne myself.” You counter, equally matter of fact. Another moment of silence before you both burst into laughter. A patrolling pair of Stormtroopers stop outside your door in confusion before rightfully deciding it’s none of their business and moving on.

Adjusting the pillow behind his head, your darling- because that is what he is now, that is how much he means to you- reaches for a matte silver case on the nightstand. Lighting a cigarra, he sucks in deeply as the tip glows red, before blowing out a stream of cloudy, blue smoke. His other arm wraps around your shoulders and pulls you close. The feeling of his skin against yours, even after your tumble in the sheets, is a revelation.

Stealing the cigarra from his hands, you take a drag before placing it back in his mouth, swollen red from your earlier lovemaking.

“So, what’s next my dear?” He asks. A fog settles around your heads as he lazily smokes in the afterglow. You curl and uncurl your fingers in a soothing pattern over the paleness of his chest. Despite your violent fight and emotional reconciling, you feel more confident than ever before. 

“We kill the Council.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Four Coming Soon!!
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Tumblr: [X](http://www.aweirdlookingtree.tumblr.com)  
> Fic Pinterest: [X](https://www.pinterest.com/briellecari/potential-au/)


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You accompany your husband through his work day, meeting various officers. You sit in on a Council Meeting and have another run-in with Allegiant General Pryde. Plans are made over dinner, sealed with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd so please excuse any mistakes.
> 
> Originally posted April 24, 2020.

The sex did help, infrequent as it was sometimes. It was easier to talk once the clothes and pretenses had been removed and the both of you were more relaxed. It felt safer, in a way, to engage in pillow talk. It was easier to talk about everything, from your treasonous plot to the shipment of fruit that the ship received.

Because you and Hux still fought, still argued. True, you hadn’t had a fight like that first one. You were grateful for that. But you and your husband were both headstrong people with specific wants and ideas. Arguing about it made sense, but there was an underlying respect there that wasn’t present before. The fights never went on too long, or got too vicious. Usually, after getting your initial frustration out- sometimes through yelling and sometimes through sex- you were able to figure out a solution.

Hux was trying, and you could appreciate that. You did appreciate that. You understood his background, the way he had been raised. Sympathy you had in spades for him. So to have him take a breath before responding in cruel anger, or thank you for something you did, meant the world to you. There was a vulnerability he was starting to let show. Only visible in the darkness of your bedroom or the steam from the shower. It wasn’t a quick or perfect process but he was trying. In return, you were too.

You were trying to be less stubborn, less haughty. You’d been crafting these ideas and plans for so long but you had to be open to change and collaboration. That’s why you got married after all. You wanted someone to work with. You didn’t want to be alone. You’re surprised you didn’t realize it earlier, but neither does Hux. You’ve both been denied so much in different ways that perhaps this marriage was always going to happen. You’re not ashamed or embarrassed to admit how much you need him now, how much you want him. Thankfully, he echoes your sentiment and his genuine affection for you is visible in every space you share together.

You hear several beeps as you get dressed, memories from the night before dissipating in your head. You’re about to turn around from your bureau to see the cause of the noise when it reveals itself in the form of a fast wheeling mouse droid quickly zipping back into it’s charging post. Then, as if on cue, your Tooka bounds out from under the bed. You snatch her up before she attempts to attack the poor droid.

“Now Millie, we’ve talked about this. No hunting the droids. You have plenty of toys to chase after, leave Messy alone.” You scold, placing her on a tall carpeted ledge. Meowing once, she stretches languorously before curling up on her perch. Shaking your head, you playfully swat at her bushy orange and white tail before continuing your morning routine.

Your husband had asked you to accompany him on the bridge today. This was both to learn more about his job and the ship you lived on and to have you present for a council meeting later. It was a good idea, you concede as you put on your shoes. Shouldn’t a wife be interested in her husband’s work, especially when it surrounded their lives? Shouldn’t a wife of a high ranking general get to know her husband’s superiors? If you were also going to be analyzing each and every one of them for weaknesses, well, that was just between you and your husband.

Getting rid of an entire High Council is not an easy or quick task but you’ve always been patient. The Council has 7 members, all older Imperial officers, with no one waiting in the wings. It’s honestly very telling that these men consider themselves so powerful and irreplaceable that they have not provided someone to step into their roles should something happen. But their folly was your gain and you revel in the exploitation to come.

“Well Millie, what do you think?” You ask the kitten, twirling in a small circle. Though she does perk up at the mention of her name, she barely spares you a glance. Much like the person who gifted her to you, she is not very interested in fashion. Still, you think your outfit is appropriate today.

Your dress is surprisingly simple and modest. You want to be able to blend in behind your husband, something easily passed over and ignored. You don’t want your presence to keep the Council from holding their tongues. The gown is a plain blue-gray jaberwool with a silk lining and thin leather belt to almost pay homage to the specific silhouette of First Order uniforms. Perhaps the only thing that sets it apart from the bland clothing of officers was the neckline. Instead of fitting snugly around your neck, the collar pulled out over one shoulder and down past your clavicle in both an elegant and risque cut. If the open neck also happens to show off a lovely little purple bite mark your darling had left the night before, all the better.

The last thing you do before leaving your quarters is put on a pair of pearl and diamond drop earrings. You decide to forgo your tiara or circlet today, instead braiding your hair up and back in a raised dome. It reminds you a little of an Alderaanian style, long since passed. The earrings start off dark gray, the same color as your dress before fading slowly into pure white with each level, small sparkling diamonds separating each change. They exude your status while also being less noticeable than a crown, and satisfied with your appearance, you leave your quarters to find your husband.

The bridge is bustling and noisy when you enter, everyone doing their jobs to ensure the might of the First Order and keep things running smoothly. As you approach your husband, grimacing at something on his datapad like always, the click of your heels stands out among the sounds. He turns and sees you, a small and rare smile gracing his lips. Holding out your gloved hand, he grasps it lightly, bringing it to his lips for a respectful kiss. Then he surprises you by tugging you towards him and placing a chaste kiss on your temple.

“Hello my dear, looking lovely as ever.” He says as his officers scurry below you. His eyes roam up and down your form approvingly before zeroing in on the open neck and the mark displayed there. You give him a cheeky smile when his face pinks for a brief moment. 

“I’m glad you think so darling. I wanted to match your officers in a way.” You explain, hands still clasped together in their respective leather gloves.

“You do in a remarkable way, and yet, I shouldn’t be shocked that you’ve managed to tweak it to your own extravagant nature.” He teases as he walks you over to a screen. It’s displaying all kinds of data and statistics. The Order is looking for a new base, wanting to introduce land troops and influence over various populations without having to fly down stormtroopers every time there’s trouble. Your husband had been going over various planets for days now, nixing some outright while spending hours comparing others. 

“Any luck finding a base?” You ask, eyes flitting over the numbers. Hux shrugs and releases your hand to fiddle with the controls, pulling up the image of a forest planet. 

“We’re still looking at a few contenders but right now Serenno seems to be the best option. The population is mostly humanoid and easily suppressible though they have had a bit of bad luck with their economy and may welcome us and the jobs we create. The soil there is nutrient rich and we could use the farmland as well as the various sources of energy the planet provides. It’s not official yet, but the terrain and atmo would be perfect for a stationary base and training facility.” He says, pulling up pictures of the bright forests and rolling fields. You didn’t particularly care about where the Order places a base, but you knew it was ultimately important to Hux.

As the day progresses, he takes you to the various departments of the Order, introducing you to all the team leaders and heads. Your husband seems particularly excited to visit the engineering department and it unlocks something in your chest to see him ask such specific questions and offer suggestions that work. There are so many strange sides to him, it’s enjoyable to have them appear.

It also is quite the boost to your ego, being shown around the ship like you are. Everyone knows who you are and what you represent and the amount of congratulations and gifts you receive during the day is touching. There was a part of you, in the early days of your marriage, that worried about whether or not the First Order would love you as much as it did Hux. You were under it’s banner your whole life, but you were also very unmilitary. So to have your husband’s subordinates welcome you so obviously and kindly, eased those worries almost instantly. Perhaps they saw in you a return to the glory and sophistication of the Empire or perhaps they just noticed the half smiles your darling graced you with or the lack of dark circles under his green eyes.

It’s quite a wonderful day, meeting everyone and learning how such an imposing ship was run. It was invigorating to see your husband in his element, commanding troops and issuing orders. No one could say that he wasn’t good at his job, that much was for certain. The admiration he gains from his officers on the bridge, and from you in private, is well deserved.

After a quiet lunch, which devolved rapidly from getting your stubborn husband to try your more palatable food to an indulgent makeout session against the wall, it was time for the meeting with the Council.

Adjusting your husband’s collar and smoothing back his hair, you enter the long meeting room following him as he sits in his appointed chair. The Council was not on board; were rarely on board, so instead of everyone sitting around the sleek paristeel table, they sat only on one side. General Hux, because of rank and respect, sits in the middle seat, while the rest of the majors and captains sit next to him. You choose to stand behind your darling, blending in with the walls and providing a figurative and literal hand against his back. 

Just before the meeting starts, the doors swish open and Kylo Ren storms in, his dark cape fluttering behind him. Like you, he chooses to stand, but unlike you he stays in the corner almost fully disappearing into the darkness. He’s still so strange to you, so unpredictable. But, whether he wants to or not, he invites curiosity. You want to get to know him, learn more about him. Your husband speaks disparagingly of him, but you were sure there was more hidden under the surface. That was something to explore later, you thought, as the screens in front of you flicker to life.

The meeting starts with roll and the expected topics of conversation. It follows with circular arguing and tedium. You understand the reasoning behind group decision making and a forum of discussion, but when you take over, these will be the first things to go. Your husband will have advisors of course, but he will make the final choice and none but you shall question him. A movement catches your eye just then, Lord Ren crossing his arms, and you quickly try to clear your mind. How foolish of you to forget the Force user in the room, to forget who he reported to. The last thing you needed was an errant thought to ruin you. You clench your hands in your gloves and hope he’s focused on the more powerful men and women in the room.

The topic eventually and thankfully changes to where the Order base should be stationed. Various officers speak about their preferred planet, providing slides and information to explain their choice. Hux goes last and it is very clear after a few minutes that he has won the support of his fellow officers around the room. The Council will make the ultimate decision after speaking with the Supreme Leader, but it’s obvious your husband has done his research and is passionate about his choice. You beam with pride at his confident tone and crisp speech.

The Council weighs their decision, speaking of the pros and cons of each planet, with Hux’s suggestion of Serenno being the favored one. But then Allegiant General Pryde speaks up and you barely resist the urge to groan.

“I’m not convinced that Serenno would be the ideal place for a new training facility. It has many favorable qualities, but the other planets brought up do as well. Despite General Hux’s notes, I see no reason why we should pick it over any other. Fondor has our shipyards already in place and Subterrel has mining opportunities. Although if the Council is to truly give their opinions, I still say Exegol is an excellent choice for a new base.” He suggests, the flickering video giving him a blue tinge. 

“While I don’t deny that Fondor or Subterrel would work fine, they already have their uses. Fondor is a shipyard, there’s limited space for courses and gyms and the constant machinery and flying around would mess with the cloaking devices and intelligence satellites. Subterrel is a mining planet, the terrain is too rocky and fragile in places to build permanent structures onto and the climate is too unpredictable. They could work, but Serenno is perfect in it’s simplicity. It has fields for farming and forests for shielding and training. The weather is temperate and there are no truly vicious species that would attack us. It is in the Outer Rim which provides an excellent spot in between various trade routes. It even has ties to Count Dooku, if you’re looking for something more spiritual and Separatist.” Hux explains, growing frustrated. It seems that Pryde is aware of his hold over your husband and enjoys exerting his power. His condescension practically leaks out of the video screen as the General continues to defend his ideas.

“And as for Exegol, that pathetic bastion of Sith energy, it is too unknown and unstable. The weather is almost always a downpour and would scramble any incoming or outcoming transmissions. While I hold little stock in the Force, you can not deny that the air is oppressive and dark there. There is something not right about that planet and I will not put my troops in danger out in the Unknown Regions! It has no trade routes, no resources, barely any lifeforms. With all due respect, Allegiant General, I don’t know why you continue to bring up that storm planet when everything points against it being even remotely useful. There is nothing there but old scraps of Star Destroyers and a failed Sith legacy!” Hux continues, getting more agitated. You step forward and place a hand on his shoulder, keeping him from leaping out of his chair. It calms him down a little, and he gathers his papers together as a way to center himself again. There is quiet in the room, everyone taken aback by your husband’s sudden ferocity and a few members of the council clear their throats in the awkward silence.

“All of you have provided excellent choices for the new base and I think I speak for the Council when I agree with General Hux about his choice. Serenno seems to have everything the First Order could need for a new permanent base and, once we receive confirmation from the Supreme Leader, construction and deployment can start right away. This concludes our meeting and the secretary droid will be sending you all the minutes shortly. You are dismissed.” The head of the council says, focusing the attention. He is a very old man, having started his career as a Lieutenant in the fledgling Empire and working his way up. It was time he retired, you thought offhandedly, watching him shakily raise a glass of water to his lips before signing off.

Other officers gather their things and exit, more screens turn off. The secretary droid makes a few beeps and exits as well; leaving only you, your husband, and Pryde’s image still in the room. Pryde is leaning back in his chair, eyes focusing intently on you. His gaze lingers on your neck and the bite mark and you can feel his stare as you swallow in trepidation.

“I’m surprised to see your wife here General, I was under the impression that she was not enlisted personnel.” He sneers. Hux bristles so minutely that it doesn’t show in his face but you can feel the insult under your palm.

“My job is one of my biggest concerns and I spend most of my time on the bridge. Any wife that I have would be remiss not to learn more about the things I consider important. Who am I to deny her the opportunity to learn about the Order?” He says casually, barely giving Pryde the courtesy of his attention.

“Although I will admit a lot of the conversation flew over my head. I have a lot to learn it seems.” You pipe up, smiling brightly at the image of Pryde. He smirks in response.

“As nice as it is to see you Lady Hux, let’s not make this a recurring appearance. I’ll speak with you shortly about the base plans, General.” With that, Pryde signs off and his image disappears. You let out an audible sigh of relief and sit down in a chair next to your husband.

“Stars I hate that man! I feel like he’s always looking at me, it makes my skin crawl.” You complain, taking off your gloves. Your darling chuckles and leans back in his chair as well.

“I can tell, he bothers me too. He was friends with my father growing up and I think it infuriates him that I’m General and my father is dead. Perhaps he’s mad he can’t shut me up the way he used to.” Hux muses, looking over at you softly, reaching out and taking your hand. He doesn’t have to say how Pryde used to silence him. The proof is in the faint scars on his back, the ones you have only seen a few times before, the ones you kiss in the hopes that your adoration will melt them away. If there was no other reason to get rid of Pryde and the Council, those scars would be enough.

“His obsession with Exegol is unusual and confusing. A Sith planet should not interest him so much, especially one that the Supreme Leader disregards.” Lord Ren says from his corner and you jump in your seat at the sound. Hux doesn’t react, used to the other man sulking around in strange places. You wonder if you should be afraid that he heard you speak against Pryde, but your husband hasn’t reacted much beyond a tightening of his jaw.

“Lord Ren, forgive me! I didn’t realize you were still here.” You apologize as he approaches the both of you. From your seated position he looks even larger than normal, the black of his uniform subsuming the lights in the room like a black hole.

“Don’t fret my dear, Ren was the one hiding in the shadows like a Mynock. He should apologize to you.” Hux drawls, glaring at Lord Ren’s helmet. There is a stand off between the two men and the air in the room grows thicker and thicker until it finally dissipates with Lord Ren speaking.

“You should consider being more agreeable like your wife. For once I am on your side, I too think Serenno is a good choice. The other planets are unworthy and useless to your cause. The Supreme Leader has many plans I am not privy to but none of them should involve Exegol.” The modulated voice says.

Hux nods his head and raises his eyebrows in acquiesce. You’re sure your face matches his.

“You have my thanks Lord Ren. I’m glad we’re seeing eye to eye on this matter.” He says diplomatically. The leather of Kylo Ren’s gloves creaks ominously in the pause though he doesn’t seem furious. In fact, his hidden gaze lasers in on you and your husband’s held hands. 

It is safe to say you are surprised by Lord Ren’s behavior and the mystery of who he is grows deeper. You long to see what’s under the helmet, imagining that it must be absolutely hideous and monstrous. That to look upon the Knight’s face must cause madness or combustion. It must be awful. He turns to you then and your eyes widen with the realization that he has been divining your thoughts.

“It’s worse.” Is all he says before exiting the room. You let out a breath and glance sideways at your husband and smile.

“Oh, I like him.” 

Hux rolls his eyes and leads you out of the room to continue his shift.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later in your quarters, you and your husband are enjoying dinner. Your meal is a delicious baked fish with seasoned vegetables, the scent wafting pleasantly around your head. For once, Hux has gotten the same thing as you, his immature palate enjoying the lighter fare of fish and vegetables over some of the heartier things you had before. You had to go slow with it, otherwise he could make himself sick with the richer flavors.

Millie has finished her dinner and now sleeps happily on top of your feet under the table. Messy, your affectionately named mouse droid, hasn’t left their charging station but you hoped she wouldn’t terrorize the poor metal thing for much longer. It was hard to send messages when your droid wouldn’t even cross the living room floor. But she’s quiet and still now, her purring is soft background noise to the conversation you’re having with your husband, recounting the day’s events and making plans for tomorrow.

It isn’t until dessert; various fresh fruits in an attractive display, that you bring up something more serious. 

“I don’t know if we’re going to be able to do this quickly. Killing the Council members all at once will look suspicious and treasonous and it will be harder to stay anonymous.” You breathe out, forking a piece of melon. Hux nods but doesn’t look worried. You feel guilty for being apprehensive, but seeing all the men together and safe in their homes makes you anxious.

“I knew that this would take the longest and that it would have to be done slowly. As much as I want to just open fire on the whole stupid lot of them, we must remain as distant from their deaths as possible. But I don’t think we have to tick off each member one by one over the course of several years.” He says, before popping a dark purple berry in his mouth. His lips twitch at the tartness of the fruit and a spark of desire ignites inside you.

“The death of their fellow members might make a few of them retire for their safety, that would take care of a few. But I’m also worried that if we rapidly take down a chunk of them, the others will respond with heightened security. I’m not a trained hitman, I can’t go up against higher protective measures.” You stress, wiping your mouth and pushing your plate away. Hux looks confused and you’re not sure why.

“What do you mean you’re not a hitman? You’re going to be the one to kill them? Absolutely not! I won’t allow it, I won’t put you in danger. I thought we’d hire a Mandalorian or some upstart Trooper.” He snaps, brows coming together in anger. Carefully pulling your feet out from under your cat, you get up and go to your husband, kneeling on the floor next to his chair. It’s a supplicated position, but you knew how to appeal to his ego.

“Darling I have to. We can’t involve anyone else in our plans, it’s too risky. Someone who can be bought may not care about our reasons but they also will divulge them to the highest bidder. We need to be overseeing everything and what better way than to do it ourselves. While I wasn't out training with guards, I have taken courses in self defense. I know how to protect myself.” You say, clutching at his sleeve. He looks down at you, forehead relaxing.

“I don’t want you to get caught or hurt, (Y/N), it’s dangerous. Let me do it, I would certainly have reasons to be in close proximity to them.”

“No darling please, I have to do it. You have to stay as far removed as possible. You can’t be linked at all. You just need to look innocent. You need to be perceived as taking the power they leave behind with resigned confidence. It will endear you to the masses to view you as someone not grasping for power, but instead stepping up to be a leader. Coups can work, but this is not the right one.” You plead as he brushes his fingers across your brows and against your lips.

“Don’t you think my being married to the murderer connects me?” He asks, his voice growing fond. You turn your head to kiss his fingertips and the flame of arousal grows within you.

“Only if I get caught.” You counter and he leans forward to kiss you. You get back to your feet and he follows you, lips never leaving each other as you blindly move towards the ice blue couch where you straddle him. It’s a pose that reminds you of your first real memory of him, all those months ago in your parent’s estate. He still grabs and grips your waist with intensity and his eyes still hold such a calculating appraisal when he opens them in between kisses.

Your hands come up to run through his hair as you curve towards each other, breaking up the gelled strands. Your sister had recently become engaged to a businessman, some kind of droid oil mogul, and having seen a picture of the man you can’t help but admire your own husband’s appearance. The warm lighting of your quarters and impassioned down time only benefit him, making him look less wan and pallid than before. While you haven’t discussed it yet, and you aren’t ready for them, you hope your future children will have his looks. You briefly imagine a little boy with red hair and your husband’s dimples, something you had only seen once in the whole time you were married, and the thought causes you to sigh in happiness. Hux relaxes deeper into the couch and you unhook the top of his uniform tunic, your fingers splaying wide on his cool skin. It warms quickly under your touch. He pulls away after a few more moments of this, work always coming first. 

“It may not surprise you but many of the Council’s members are incredibly corrupt. Skimming off the top, abusing officers, one even owns pleasure slaves if the open secrets are to be believed. I think with the right kind of publicity, we could spin this. Pin the deaths on a team of justice seeking vigilantes intent on exposing the truth. At the end of all this, we can even ‘discover’ the culprits to be the Resistance and stage an attack without recourse. There’s no downside for us. The Council is gone and with it, we can criticize their behavior and come out looking more worthy of support and praise. We pin it on the Resistance and take out a few of them in justifiable revenge. If you can kill these disgusting, useless men, I can make the Order love you for it.” Hux says and you surge up in a quick kiss before breaking it to tell him some very exciting news. 

“I was invited by Colonel Paru’s wife to spend a long weekend at their estate. I believe several other members of the High Council will be there. Shall I come back with their heads for you?” You whisper, your lips moving against his in an almost kiss. You share the same breath and every time your husband leans forward to take them, you pull back imperceptibly. 

His hand travels up your side and over your breast to your open collar. His thumb pushes against the bruise he made only the night before and you gasp at the touch.

“Heads seem too messy and hard to display. I don’t need proof of your success, just you.” He says, catching you off guard with tenderness and capturing your lips with his own. He tastes like victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Chapter Five Coming Soon!
> 
> Tumblr: [X](http://aweirdlookingtree.tumblr.com)  
> Fic Pinterest: [X](https://www.pinterest.com/briellecari/potential-au/)


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've been invited to spend some time at Colonel Paru's estate but you doubt he'll be very pleased with your plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd so please excuse any mistakes! This chapter features graphic depictions of violence and mentions of sexual slavery, so be aware of your triggers.
> 
> Originally posted on tumblr on May 17th, 2020

Dinner is absolutely delicious, you begrudgingly give them that. After months of being on a starship with limited supplies, it’s so nice to get real, extravagant food again. The wine is light and crisp, the meat juicy and tender, even the bread is perfect and flakey. You briefly contemplate sneaking some back to your room for later, or perhaps home to Hux. But it would be stale by the time it gets to him and the rich herb butter would probably send his taste buds into overdrive. As if reading your thoughts, the lady of the estate; Colonel Paru’s wife, asks about your husband.

“Oh he’s just fine Karin. I spoke to him early today. He’s hard at work as ever and apologizes again for having to miss this. But I’m sure there will be more times in the future. Goodness knows I’d come back for the food alone. I’m tempted to steal your chefs right from under you.” You tease with a pleasant smile. You note absently that this is the first time she’s asked about you. You’ve been at the estate two days already and this is the first time she’s talked about anything other than herself. That was very rude. It’s clear that while these more decorated officers may wish they were royalty, they certainly are not.

Everyone at the table has a good laugh and the talk turns to business. Admiral Ersawit spears a piece of meat, pointing it at you.

“I imagine your husband is hard at work setting up the new base. He doesn’t have time to lounge around like us old banthas.” He says with a rueful chuckle.

“Oh nonsense, you’re quite spry Admiral. Why, I could see you dancing about at 200 years old!” You grin, perhaps too sharply for response, before flushing from the joke. Colonel Paru laughs as well and drains his glass.

“Just remind your husband, when he reaches our age, to focus on the finer things in life. A man feels no stress when he’s surrounded by good food and good art.” He adds, gesturing to the beautiful paintings that surround you in the dining room. He wasn’t wrong, the art was good, but the rest of the estate’s decor left something to be desired. It seemed that Colonel Paru and his wife thought that having money meant you had to buy the most expensive things available and show them off in every way. So they had beautiful art and sculptures lining their hallways, but they had too many. The wallpaper was loud and garish and the molding was gilded, and caused glares if you walked past when sunlight came through the open windows. Each trip from room to room caused a headache and you were surprised to realize how much you missed the simple gray and black of the Finalizer. 

“You do have some stunning pieces Colonel. It’s quite the collection. I’m amazed at some of the rarer paintings you have.” You agree, adjusting the napkin on your lap. Your dress was mostly white and you’d hate to stain it.

“Thank you my Lady. It takes years to acquire this kind of collection but it’s well worth it, in the end. As for the rarer pieces”, here his voice dropped and everyone subconsciously leaned in, “if you know who to talk to, you can skip some of the lengthier processes. You’d be surprised what a few extra credits will get you.”

You wag your finger and tsk playfully at him, while his wife hits his forearm with little force and a tittering laugh. You were no expert on art but you knew Old Republic Nabooian folk paintings when you saw them. The cost of an original was worth far more than a Colonel made, even one that had been a Colonel for as long as he had. Not to mention, Naboo had made a conscious effort after the destruction of the Empire to get all their art back and placed in a historical museum. This proved your husband’s claim that certain members of the Council were skimming off the top. That’s the only way he could afford such singular pieces while avoiding any legal troubles. Stealing art may not have been corrupt but preventing the people of Naboo from having a fair chance to recieve their own work was just contemptible.

You look down at your lap to avoid giving away your anger. Your fists clench in the cloth napkin while your eyes switch back and forth from one side of your gown to the other. You hadn’t questioned why you chose the dress you did, but now it felt serendipitous. Your gown was mostly white and cream with simple long sleeves and little adornment. But there was one side that was pitch black, a dark splash normally unseen on you. It wasn’t that you disliked black but you often found yourself straying away from darker colors. For some reason, you felt like they didn’t belong to you yet. Considering what you were planning to do tonight, maybe it was fate to have chosen a dress like this. 

The sound of clinking glassware brings you back to the moment as droids bring out dessert. The cake was rich and chocolatey with a fine layer of cream and fruit. Oh, you were _definitely_ finding their chef and bringing them to your home when this was all over. 

“I’m glad you’ve taken such an interest in the art we have here, Lady Hux. It’s so refreshing to speak to someone cultured. Present company included,” Karin says and the other women give smug chuckles, “Perhaps if you’re good, I’ll send you a piece for your anniversary to the General. Though I can’t imagine where you’d put fine art on a starship. They’re all so dull and grey. You have my pity being surrounded by such coldness.”

“Not at all Karin, I find the aesthetics of a starship to be quite striking in their simpleness. True, most things are various shades of silver or black, but it all looks so streamlined and impressive that way. The fact that I stand out beautifully while wearing my more colorful gowns is just a coincidence.” You mention with a casual air that the other women see through quickly, as you intended. 

“Well of course! Your wardrobe is known throughout the galaxy. You have such exquisite pieces.” A dark skinned woman says, her hair braiding into an odd series of loops on top of her head. She gave you her name, as did the other men and women at the table, but they were not important so you forgot them. You cover your cheeks with your hands in a fake display of bashful modesty and the conversation spins again.

When droids finally clear away all the plates, Colonel Paru stands and announces to the various other people at the table that he has after-dinner drinks prepared in his study. Your small party follows him there, chatting about the newest designers to hit Coruscant and some Captain who did remarkably well during a training exercise. As you walk you take note of any outward signs of security; cameras in the corners, panels on the walls, unusual patches of paint or suspiciously placed statues. Overall, it seems that the estate is moderately protected. There is, and will be, footage of you walking to and from your room, but that’s what you want.

The study is a circular room with high ceilings and ornate wooden bookshelves that go all the way to the top. They are filled with ancient texts and newer manuals, interspersed with knick-knacks and anthropological finds. You let your fingers dance across the spines, curving over a skull and pushing away dust from a plaque. A droid starts to prepare cocktails while the Colonel gives the other men cigars. Soon the room was full of smoke and good humor, though you desperately wish the grand fireplace was a window, as it was getting ridiculously stuffy. Still, you produce a cigarra from your purse and join everyone in smoking and drinking.

“Just a splash, I’m not as young as I used to be and I’d like to make it to my room before I fall asleep.” Admiral Ersawit says to the droid while the other men toss him knowing glances and laughter. He sips his cordial with a wink and he quickly sends a message on his data pad. You give a look of confusion to Karin but she doesn’t answer.

A minute or so pass as the group debates something trivial. Your mind is wandering so you aren’t sure. You’re thinking about your plan, going over it in your mind. It’s a good thing Kylo Ren is not here or you’d surely be caught. But as far as you know, he and his knights are the only Force users on your side of the war. You let your mind wander around Kylo Ren and his height and breadth, wonder about what his face looks like. Then it swims to your husband, stark and divine, and you imagine them on the bridge together; they must make an intimidating pair and you wish desperately to see it someday.

Then the door to the study opens and you startle back to the present. A helmeted guard enters with a truly shocking gift. Walking into the room, he leads a naked woman on a leash towards the Admiral. The old man smiles down at her and pets her head, as if she’s a simple dog. Then he lifts his feet and she shuffles on her knees to become his footrest. You are sure your face is one of horror. This is not only a show of extreme wealth but also one of power.

“I don’t blame you for wanting just a bit, what a beautiful specimen.” One of the other officers says, eyeing the kneeling woman like a luscious piece of fruit. Ersawit preens and fists the leash, accidentally choking his slave momentarily. She makes a strange gurgling noise and but otherwise says nothing. Then you notice the long scar across her neck and your meal threatens to come back up. Schooling your face, you take a long drag of your cigarra.

“Admiral, I hope you’ll forgive my ignorance, but how is it that you own a pleasure slave? The Empire dismantled most of the Hutt markets years ago. The First Order doesn’t align itself with that practice.” You say, keeping your voice unsure and confused, as opposed to righteously angry. All of the men, and a few of the women, give you pitying looks.

“Quite right Lady Hux, the Empire and Order _has_ banned slavery throughout the galaxy. Not completely removed it, just banned it. The Hutt markets still exist if one knows where to look. I’ve served a very long time in this military and I figure I deserve a nice reward for all my hard work. Laws and morals be damned.” He explains without a hint of remorse. You tilt your head as if in concession.

“My, how clever you are. Quite right too! Why shouldn’t you enjoy all the pleasures of the galaxy? You’ve been such a monumental figure within the Empire and First Order, you deserve a sweet little thing to take care of you at night.” You say, raising your glass in a toast. Everyone joins you with hearty agreement and your hate for them makes the brandy in your hand taste sour. After a few more minutes of this you down your drink and stand, announcing you’re tired and leaving the study. All you want to do is talk to your husband and go to sleep.

Stars, but you hate them all, hate their arrogance and greed. Hate their condescension and hubris. They thought they were above everyone, above you, above your husband. They were foolish and lazy. They couldn’t see the true brilliance Hux had, the passion you had for his success. They all had so much power and they just lounged around in their ugly houses with their expensive art and mistreated servants, wasting it. You detest waste and it was about time that you clean up.

You nod at your Stormtrooper guards as you come up to your room. You enter the little antechamber; the pleasant smile you wore all through dinner dropping. Kicking off your heels, you collapse onto the luxurious bed in your gown. While you didn’t like much in this ridiculous house, the mattress under you was amazing. The mattress you had on the Finalizer was a standard one, perfectly average in every way. But your husband often complained of his back hurting, so maybe it was time you coaxed him into something new. He was the General of the fleet, he deserved a better night’s sleep.

It’s then that your datapad beeps, your husband calling you. Speak of the devil, indeed. Sitting up against a large pillow, you smooth down your hair and open the holo call, Hux’s face suddenly in front of you. The last vestige of nervous tension leaves you at the sight of his tired, but beautiful face. He’s sitting in what appears to be his office chair and based on the time difference, you’re both unsurprised and angry that he is still working.

“Hello darling. How are you?” You ask, taking in his bitten lips and dark circles. He looks annoyed and exhausted, which is pretty much his normal state of being, but you still worry.

“I’m alright my dear. Work is stressful as ever, but getting everything in place for the new base is proving more of a headache than I thought. I don’t remember Starkiller having this much red tape. Then again, I spent that time running on too much caf and stims, so perhaps there was. I also didn’t have to deal with Kylo Ren breathing down my neck the last time. He was on a mission during most of Starkiller’s construction but for some reason he’s taken to contributing now. It would be almost endearing if he weren’t so annoying. I haven’t been sleeping well either but that’s nothing to do with you.” He says, rubbing at his eyes in a rare show of weakness. It’s very touching.

“Are you sure? Are you sure it’s not because I’m not that to kiss you goodnight?” You tease, feeling your heart pound in an unusual way. You’re teasing him for his neediness while ignoring the line of pillows you’ve set up against your side to mimic his body. You don’t acknowledge the hypocrisy or the underlying affection. You and Hux may have come to a pleasant understanding but you still enjoyed spending time apart more than spending time together. That was the story you were sticking with.

Hux gives you a weak glare before a sound catches his attention and he looks away from you. He leans out of frame and returns holding Millie. Her flat face looks at you in interest, her fluffy tail swishing in front of your husband’s nose.

“Hello sweetheart. I miss you. Have you been behaving while I’m gone?” You ask your tooka, completely unapologetic in your excitement. Hux pets at a spot behind her ear and the purring is very audible. Despite Millie being a gift from him, you had been worried they wouldn’t get along. You’re relieved to see that in your absence they’ve become fast friends.

“She’s doing just well. I think she misses you too. Instead of sleeping on the couch or at the foot of the bed like she always does, she’s taken to sleeping on your side. As for her behavior; I had to send Messy in for repairs. She chased him into a wall the other day.” He explains with chagrin. As much as you feel bad for your mouse droid, you can’t help but laugh at the image that represents.

“Hopefully you punished her and she learns her lesson,” You say seriously, your lips fighting back a smile, “Try not to let Lord Ren bother you darling, I think it’s a good thing that he wants to be involved. I’m sure he has some valuable insight, in some capacity. I know you scoff at the Force, but you can’t deny that he wields power. Plus if you’re relaxed, I doubt you’ll be as annoyed by him.” Your husband nods and Millie jumps off his lap. You stretch out the kinks in your neck while he gives you a calculating stare. The mood changes and a shiver goes down your spine. 

“It’s late (Y/N), you should get ready for bed. Why don’t you tell me your evening plans?” He murmurs, leaning back in his chair and resting his fingers against his lips. Your husband’s gaze has always been intense and tonight is no different. It lights a fire within you and you quietly breathe out in anticipation.

“Yes, it is late. I should probably get into my sleep clothes.” You say slowly, carefully getting off the bed and placing the datapad upright to face you. The line between you was private and encrypted but you might as well insure that anyone who could possibly be watching will turn the feed off out of modesty.

You take off your jewelry with careful hands, placing it in a dish on the vanity. His eyes track your movement and you feel a rush of heady power. Your hands reach for your silver belt and you finally speak; the poison of your plans infecting the air around you. As you remove each item of clothing, you explain your thoughts to your husband so far away. Normally you’d undress perfunctorily, but right now, for him, you put on a show. Each layer discarded is another layer of your cruelty and by the end you are naked and he is palming himself through his trousers.

You’re about to get back on the bed and join him, when a knock sounds at the outer door. You curse and grab a large towel, your husband continuing his movements lazily. You glide out of your bedroom into the small anteroom and open the door to your hostess.

“Karin, hello! You caught me just as I was about to get into the shower.” You say breathlessly, your face probably still pink. She smiles and shakes her head.

“No worries, I just wanted to say goodnight and make sure you had everything you needed before turning in. I’ll be getting into bed soon too. Jhon is still entertaining in his study but he always comes to bed after me. Don’t be alarmed if you hear rowdiness later, that’s probably him and the others.” She says with an exasperated grin. You smile in return but your eyes are bright with interest. How thoughtful of Colonel Paru to provide the perfect spot for his demise.

“I’m fine Karin, the room is lovely and as of right now, there’s nothing I need. I’ll see you in the morning. If breakfast is as delicious as dinner, I know I’ll be up early.” You joke, before Karin waves goodbye and you shut the door. Returning back to your bedroom, Hux sits poised and ready on the other side of his screen. You give him a wicked grin and get on the bed to finish what you started. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time passes in the liquid way it always does after an orgasm and it’s only when the chronometer chimes that you get out of bed.

You grab the special garment bag from your suitcase and quickly get dressed. The black jumpsuit and boots are slightly too big but that will only aid in your story. The suit has an attached hip pack and you make sure the blaster inside is charged before zipping it up. You put your hair up and grab the small black helmet. Then you turn on the shower in the refresher, steam quickly filling the small room. Heading over the windows, you open them slowly, careful not to make a sound. You can’t hear much over the shower since you left the door open, but better safe than sorry.

It had rained earlier in the day and there was a patch of mud under your window. There was also an old fashioned trellis covered in vines. Holding your breath and praying that the thin wood could hold your weight, you descend down the side. It is dark all around you, no lights or cameras pointing towards your window.

You step down into the mud, making sure your feet are facing the right way. You need this to look like someone approached your window. Then with a sigh, you climb back up the trellis, making sure to scrape mud on a few of the gaps you stick your feet into. As you climb, you think of your husband and all the work he does. All the slights he faces and the disapproval that follows him. He could be great, he could change the galaxy for the better, and you were going to make that happen.

You climb back in and carefully walk out of your room and into the antechamber. The Troopers outside your door are quiet and you feel a little bad for what you’re going to do. But part of their duty was to give their life in service of the First Order. You were just taking it more literal as you remove the blaster from your hip pack and flick the safety off. It’s heavy in your hand as you open the door out into the hallway. The troopers turn to face you, clearly expecting to see their Lady in a nightgown. What they see is a figure in black, face obscured. You shoot them both in quick succession, one of them managing to get a shot out but it hits the wall next to you. You were a hypocrite for wasting good soldiers like this, but if you can get away with this, they will not have died in vain.

Keeping your blaster up, you sneak down the hallway as quickly and quietly as you can. You pass no droids or guards but you don’t relax, you can’t relax. More shots will be taken tonight but they can’t be at you.

There is a light spilling out from under the Colonel’s study door and you smile at the small crack left open by someone. The Colonel’s study is close to other bedrooms so you holster your blaster. You still have more to do after this and you can’t alert anyone to your presence. The open door could be seen as a sign of favor but you still hold your breath as you squeeze through the space. The colonel is in a lowbacked armchair, facing towards the fireplace and away from you. It seems he hasn’t moved since you left the study earlier. Out of your hip pack, you pull out a thick coil of rope. Colonel Paru continues to drink his wine.

You approach him slowly, your heartbeat steady and loud in your ears. _For him, for me, for us, for him, for me, for us,_ the beats seem to say. The colonel takes another sip and lowers his drink, his other hand resting on the armrest of the chair. Quick as a viper, you loop the rope over his head and pull it tight against his neck. The effect is instantaneous. His hands come to grab at the rope and claw at your arms but you hold tight. Using your elbow, you hit a button on the side of your helmet to raise the blast shield hiding your face. It won’t make much difference but you want him to know who his murderer is.

“Just relax Colonel, this will be over soon. Your time ruling the galaxy is done. I think we’ve had enough of your lies and corruption. You will be remembered, but not for your victories. No, you will be recorded in history for your follies and inaction but don’t fret, the First Order will rise from your ashes. General Hux sends his regards.” You whisper into his ear. With the recognition of who his attacker was, he struggles anew but it does little for him. The weathered skin of his face is turning purple and he’s making gurgling, panicked noises, his grip against your wrists getting weaker and weaker. While he’s stronger than you, your position and height over him is your advantage.

He slumps finally and you hold tight a few more moments to make sure he isn’t faking. You slowly take the rope away, shaking out your fingers. Your grip had been so tight, they were shaking and sore from the exerted energy. Briefly contemplating cutting his throat to make sure he’s dead, you decide against it. The harsh red line on his neck is proof enough. His glass has fallen to the ground, cracking into pieces and spilling scotch on the carpet below.

Giving yourself a second to collect yourself, you glance around the study. Now that it was quiet, you’d love to really explore the room but you can’t dawdle. Still, a sliver of moonlight catches on an unopened bottle of Dantooine rum. It was a very old vintage; a rare and coveted bottle that was worth quite a few credits.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking this. My darling would love it and I doubt you’ll be drinking it anytime soon. Thank you Colonel, for your service.” You remark to his still body, putting the bottle into your hip pack, before switching out the rope for your blaster and exiting the room.

You’re running on adrenaline now and you can’t stop to pause. If you do, you’ll be forced to think about the blood you’re spilling in your quest for power. While you think you’re justified in your actions, the haunting sound of Colonel Paru’s last breath is better left for a different time. Or to be more specific, the lack of feeling his dying breaths gave you.

You sneak around the estate, searching for Admiral Ersawit’s room. You’re afraid you’re going to pass right by or spend the whole night wandering when you hear a groan on the left. It’s followed by a higher pitched squeaking and you grimace behind your helmet. A few more grunts and sighs, and the people inside the room finish whatever it is they were doing. You try not to picture it. Leaning up carefully against the door, you can make out the sound of the admiral’s voice. There’s the sound of shuffling sheets and the swish of something closing. Probably the refresher if his room is anything like yours.

You’re suddenly faced with a conundrum as you step back from the door. It’s locked and the control panel is coded to fingerprints. You bite back a curse and look wildly around the hallway for something to do. You can’t just stand here; a droid or Karin may find the Troopers or her husband. Turning quickly in a circle, you try not to panic at what to do next. What would Hux do? Hux would probably do something clever, or not have to deal with this at all, the jerk. You look at the panel again. You could try to hack it, but you have no tools to unscrew the panel and you don’t have the knowledge to breach the security system. You could end up setting off an alarm.

Taking a breath, you shrug and shoot at the panel, forcing it to break and open the door amid a shower of sparks. You walk through the smoke to see Admiral Ersawit lying in his bed, looking utterly surprised and reaching for the night table. He just manages to get his hand on the blaster there when you shoot twice, getting him in the head and chest. Blood is spattered against the headboard and it looks almost artistic in the pattern it takes. How anticlimactic though; he could have at least put up a fight. Silence follows and you turn towards the refresher door which is still closed. 

“Come out honey, he’s dead. You’ve got nothing to fear. I won’t hurt you.” You announce through the distortion of the helmet. A moment of hesitation and then she opens the door, looking terrified. You smile at her through the helmet though she doesn’t see it. Then you shoot her too, her emaciated frame collapsing onto the floor. The more horrible you make your actions now, the more it will serve you. Besides, what kind of life could she have led, half starved and traumatized with her vocal cords ripped out? You were doing her a kindness and that’s what you were sticking to.

The sounds the door made when you forced it open were louder than you anticipated and you know that the shots of the blaster weren’t quiet. You shove the gun back into the hip pack and race back to your room, almost leaping with the speed you’re reaching. Thankfully you don’t get lost on your way back. You skid in front of your room, barely taking the time to breathe.

The Stormtroopers are still dead on the ground outside your room and you stop yourself right before you slam the door behind you. Closing it with a near silent click, you head towards the open window. You go down the trellis again, making sure to snag your suit on the edge before placing your boots in the mud the opposite way. Then you groan and climb back up. Next time you murdered someone, Hux could do the set up.

Entering the room, you carefully remove the boots before stepping down. The shower is still running and you tug your suitcase from the closet to hide the boots, helmet, and suit. You’ll bring them back to the Finalizer to be destroyed since they can’t be left here. You can put them in the incinerator and hope the fibers under the Colonel’s nails will be enough to help identify the killer.

Then you step into the refresher and jump under the spray, cleaning yourself efficiently. Your hair gets damp but not soaking which will hopefully match the time you started the shower if anyone comes to your room now. You climb into bed, body vibrating from the stress of what you just did.

You do feel bad, guilty about the necessary but innocent lives you had to take for your plan, but the feeling doesn’t linger as much as it should. Perhaps you should be more concerned that you barely feel any remorse for what you’ve done, but the universe was in chaos and sacrifices had to be made. You want to call Hux, tell him of your triumph but you hold back. It can wait until you’re alone with him in the privacy of your rooms. 

The last thing you do before you fall into a pleasant and deep sleep is laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Six Coming Soon!!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Tumblr: [X](http://www.aweirdlookingtree.tumblr.com)  
> Fic Pinterest: [X](https://www.pinterest.com/briellecari/potential-au/)


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on while you plot and scheme. You gain allies, remove enemies, and go on to the next part of your plan. Your machinations charge ever forward...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I just want to apologize for how long it's taken me to post this. I had started writing it back in May but then a bunch of stuff happened and my life got ridiculous. Quarantine and everything connected to that affected me more than I thought it would and my muse for this fic completely disappeared. If it weren't for my friends coaxing me along, it probably would've been a few more months without this next chapter. Not to mention all the wonderful people in the fandom cheering me on and helping me out. Your support is so appreciated. So here it is, at long last! I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> Unbeta'd so please excuse any mistakes!
> 
> Originally posted on tumblr on Oct 25th, 2020.

It was quite the glittering assemblage. Bright moonlight shone through the windows of the banquet hall, bouncing off the crystal glasses and the gems in several women’s hair. Admiral Lyle Torwyn was quite pleased with the turnout and made his way over to the bar for another drink. Serenno had completed construction with nary a hitch, ahead of schedule, and as the head of the High Council, he thought it prudent to celebrate. What better way to increase morale and show the donors what their money went to than a brilliant gala? 

While waiting at the bar, his watery blue eyes roamed the area, noting who was talking to who. He spotted Allegiant General Pryde speaking with some Captain, looking tall and imposing. That man, always trying to work when he should be enjoying himself. Like Hux over there in the corner! Now there was a man who seemed to be on the right track. Smart and ambitious, sure he had a misstep with Starkiller, but what inexperienced young man didn’t make a mistake every now and then? Perhaps it was rude of Torwyn to think of a man in his 30s as green, but he could be forgiven for his indulgence. He was getting old and finally starting to enjoy the fruits of his labor. Which included his favorite wine, a rare vintage from D’Qar. Very few people he’d shared it with seemed to enjoy the bitter red, but he drank it all the same. 

It felt wrong to open a new bottle just for one person, so Torwyn’s eyes found his wife’s in the crowd and beckoned her over. How serendipitous that she had been talking to the very man he was just musing on! As Meela approached, so did Hux and his own wife. Torwyn could never remember her name but she looked quite beautiful. Were he a younger, single man…

“General and Lady Hux, won’t you join my wife and I for a drink? You must try this vintage, it’s my absolute favorite though no one else ever seems to be of the same mind.” He asked jovially, his wife shaking her head in fond amusement. 

“Why thank you Admiral, I’d love to. You’ll have to excuse (Y/N), she’s still working on her first drink.” Hux said, his wife holding up her glass with a bashful smile. She didn’t say anything but the movement made her necklace sparkle in the light, yellow and white diamonds standing out against her skin and drawing the eye unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, towards her cleavage. Torwyn’s wife patted her hand consolingly.

“No matter dear, you just stand there and look lovely. Oh, doesn’t she look lovely Lyle? I was just telling her how much I admired her gown, I needed to know the designer right away.” Meela gushed, as if expecting her husband to comment. Lady Hux had once again made quite the splash with her gown tonight, though the Admiral was no judge of fashion. But to hear his wife go on and on about the outfit, he assumed it was extravagant.

Lady Hux was wearing a velvet burgundy gown, low cut and off the shoulders with large sleeves. Lyle thought the idea of baring one’s shoulders and yet, having sleeves that could fit a loth cat inside was silly, but that’s why he was an Admiral and not a designer. The dress was tight around the bodice and then spread out at the waist, giving the young woman a pleasing figure. He also enjoyed the peek of the white underskirt along the bottom of the dress as well. It felt meaningful, though he couldn’t place why. 

“Indeed she does,” He agreed, as the bartender opened the bottle with a pop and poured out three glasses. Maybe Lady Hux would deign to try some, she was certainly eyeing the bottle.

“To the success of Serenno and the First Order.” Hux said, raising his glass along with theirs. They cheered and Torwyn and his wife took a large sip, enjoying the bouquet of flavors. Focused on his own drink, the Admiral didn’t notice that Hux only took the smallest sip, didn’t notice the grip of his wife’s hand on his arm, didn’t notice the ways their eyes tracked the throats of Torwyn and his wife with an almost evil pleasure. 

Finishing his glass, Torwyn smiled at his little group and felt a swell of pride at the glory he had helped create. The wine left a strange aftertaste on his tongue, almost a film that wouldn’t fade, but he paid it no mind. This was a very rare vintage after all, one that he hadn’t had in a long time. He ordered a refill for himself and his wife and the party continued.

It continued all night and with food and drink and dancing. If he found himself getting dizzier than normal, perhaps it was his age. 

If he found his fingers getting numb, perhaps that was the cold night air. 

And if he found his vision darkening as the doors to his temporary quarters opened, well then, that was death.

~~~~~~~

You awake in the early hours of the morning to the sound of the refresher door opening and your husband puking his guts out. You sigh and stretch before joining him at the toilet. You make soothing noises and rub his back as he expels the contents of his stomach. There went every course, one by one, until he was vomiting up nothing but bile. 

“That’s right darling, just let it out. It will be over soon. I know it’s unpleasant. Just breathe.” You coo, pushing back hair from his damp forehead. There’s a pause and Hux turns his head to glare at you.

“It’s times like this when I wonder why I got married. Because right now, my dear, I really hate you.” He breathes out before turning back to the toilet again. You scoff and stand up, getting him a glass of cool water.

“You married me because despite the fact that you are currently throwing up and looking worse than you ever have, I still want to sleep with you.” You tease, helping him take a sip of water.

The poor dear, getting so sick like that. You felt horrible about it though you knew it was necessary. 

“Next time, you can drink the poison.” He coughs out, wiping at his mouth. You can’t help but roll your eyes at his dramatics. You still grab your datapad and request anti-nausea medication to be sent up because you’re a good wife and he is lucky to have you.

“There won’t be a next time because this time worked. Besides, this is payback for making me climb up and down a trellis in the rain. You can handle an upset stomach; don’t be a baby.” You shoot back and he snarls, pushing off your touch. Change of heart, you hoped he felt terrible and it went on forever.

A chime went off through the apartment which meant someone was at the door requesting entry. That was certainly quick but you’re not complaining. Leaving the refresher and grabbing a long dressing gown, you press a button on the side panel to reveal Kylo Ren standing in your doorway. He has his helmet on, but his clothing is clearly meant for off duty. Gone are the ribbed sleeves and leather tunic, the tall and heavy boots. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was in his pajamas. 

Moving aside to let him in, you can’t help but marvel at the simple fact that it is not his armor and cape that make him so large, but his actual body. His long sleeve black sweater and black pants do little to hide the breadth of his chest or the length of his legs. What a delightful thing to learn!

“Lord Ren, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask quietly as he stands in the middle of your sitting room. He turns sharply and stares in your general direction. You feel distinctly like you’re being examined, every layer you have stripped away to expose the soft flesh and muscle. It leaves you feeling both annoyed and excited.

“Where is Hux?” He asks, his voice through the vocoder sounding extra harsh in the early morning air. As if in response, you both hear Hux throw up some more and you wince in both sympathy and embarrassment.

Ignoring you, Kylo heads for the refresher. Hux, feeling the shadow across his body, looks up at his co-commander and levels him with a look of disgust. 

“What the kriff are you doing here? I’m already feeling terrible, I don’t need you here to gloat.” He says, resting his head on the toilet seat. It should look ridiculous, but your husband has a way of making even the most mundane movements seem graceful.

“Are you okay? How long have you been vomiting? Are you lightheaded, losing feelings in your extremities, getting double vision?” Ren asks, standing still in the doorway while you hover behind him nervously.

“Am I okay? I’m practically vomiting out all my innards here. No, I’m not okay! As for the other stuff you mentioned, I’m fine there. I think this is just a stomach bug.” Hux says dismissively, taking another sip of water and wiping at his mouth with a towel. You duck around Ren and kneel back down next to your husband, your hand coming to rest on his back again. 

“It’s not a stomach bug Hux, it was poison. Admiral Torwyn and his wife are dead.” Ren finally says and you gasp in shock.

“What? But that’s insane! We all ate the same food and we’re fine. I don’t feel sick. Why is he throwing up? How was he poisoned?” You ask, your voice shaky with trepidation.

“It was the wine,” Hux answers as if it’s a forgone conclusion, rubbing at his forehead, “It must have been the wine. No one else drinks that swill but them. I was just unfortunate to be roped into a toast with them. That’s why I only had to deal with some nausea. I probably didn’t drink enough to do anything but cause a bad reaction in my gut.” 

“Oh thank the stars!” You exhale, wrapping your arms around your husband and squeezing tightly, your face against his shoulder. Kissing the back of his neck, you sigh out loud in relief.

You loved it when a plan came together, and Hux played his part so beautifully. It was quite the challenge to find the D’Qar wine, let alone poison it and seal it perfectly. But you had a few friends in dark places who didn’t mind the paycheck. So you went to the gala and waited, watching the Admiral drink a few cocktails, eat his dinner, and generally act like an old, doddering fool. 

Then, as if knowing your plan, he invited you and Hux over to watch him create his own demise. With the poison being a slow acting one, and your husband being both unlucky and lucky to have taken a few sips, the Admiral would die with no one being the wiser until it was too late. And to have Kylo, an eyewitness, watching your husband expel the poison that would absolve you of connection, was almost the icing on the cake. How considerate of everyone to go along with your ambitions so sweetly.

Hux was breathing easier now, and he lets you kiss his cheek. Turning to face Ren in your refresher doorway, you smile up at him.

“Lord Ren, would you like to join us for breakfast?”

Despite not having moved since appearing in the fresher doorway, Ren starts like he’d been pushed. His hands clench in their gloves.

“Yes, stay. We’ll have far too much food between the both of us.” Hux says simply, getting up off the tile with a grimace and walking towards the small table in the sitting room. The apartment on Serrano wasn’t as large or decorated as the one on the Finalizer but it was cozy and served it’s purpose. With how large and tall both men were, it would be a tight fit at the breakfast nook. Not that you minded.

There was an intake of mechanical breath that preceded Ren’s words, but he was cut off by another chime at the door. A droid entered then, with a platter of various foods and some anti-nausea pills for Hux. He took them dry because he was a freak like that apparently and gestured to the table for the food.

Taking a risk, you stand up as well and follow your husband to the table, touching Kylo Ren’s arm on the way out. You feel him tense under your fingers and you grin when he isn’t looking. 

You think that’s it, that it will be too much and too informal and he will storm out. But instead, he approaches the table with an almost nervous energy. He has to take off his helmet, he has to reveal his face to you. It’s a realization that makes your smile turn softer in the morning light.

You wouldn’t call it pity per se, but you do realize that this is probably a challenge for the Knight. To allow himself to be seen and not feared. So you try to exude sympathy towards him as best you can.

There’s a catch and the release of air and Lord Ren removes his helmet and sits at the table. Hux doesn’t react, having seen the man’s face before in passing. But you, you are frozen in surprise.

Under the helmet is not some alien species or droid or shriveled old man. Instead there’s a human face, young and smooth. His eyes are light brown and very deep, flitting up at you with obvious nerves. No wonder he wears a helmet, his eyes give away everything. The skin of his face is spotted here and there with freckles and moles and it’s so undeniably boyish that you cover your mouth to keep from laughing with delight. 

He has a large nose but he pulls it off, the proportions of his face making it appear slightly more grand rather than hawkish. His lips are lush and very pink, like he’d been biting them in anticipation or perhaps worry. His hair is interestingly perfect, curling dark and long over his shoulders. How he manages to have such beautiful hair under a helmet all day is clearly some Force secret and you’re only slightly envious. Overall, Kylo Ren makes a very pleasing picture. Perhaps not conventionally handsome but his various features make him look charming and sweet and maybe a bit rakish. Kylo Ren is a young man and little else and you just adore him for it.

He’s staring at you, has been for the last minute while you’ve stared at him in return. Your husband looks at you both over the rim of his mug. 

“Absolutely hideous.” You say, a large smile forming on your face. Kylo Ren smirks in response and it’s like the air in the room suddenly lightened. Your husband hands you a mug of tea, doctored as you like it, and in return you move the honey over to his side of the table so he can season his fraig with it. You’ve never cared much for the simple hot porridge, it was a texture thing, but at least he took his with honey and nuts instead of just plain.

Kylo Ren watches the casual and intimate domesticity with something bordering on envy though neither you nor Hux acknowledge it. You’ve left a small piece of thread from your robes on the back of Ren’s arm but you refrain from saying anything. He can find it later and remember.

“When did the news break about Admiral Torwyn and his wife?” Hux asks, in between bites. 

“A few hours ago. Apparently they never answered their wake up call and someone went to investigate. That’s why I rushed to you, I wasn’t sure if you were dead, or if you had keeled over in the middle of the night, that you were just lying on the ground decomposing. I needed to know you weren’t dead. Either of you.” Kylo says, sincere but very quiet. He isn’t looking at you and you give your husband a pitying look that morphes into a smirk. You try to keep your thoughts very quiet and simple; when Ren is ready, he’ll learn the truth. Or at least, some of it.

“Careful Ren, people might start to think you care.” Hux replies though he doesn’t bother to hide his smirk. Ren colors briefly at the remark but fixes him with a glare. You wonder if this is not the first time your husband has spoken to his co-commander like this.

But then again, Ren does not argue. He doesn’t stammer and try to talk his way out or deny things. He lets the words settle in the air and land plainly among the fruit and breakfast pastries. He does care, perhaps deeply, and he’s hoping you’ll be kind enough not to mention it.

“Would you like any tea or caf, Lord Ren? We have a smaller selection than normal, but there should be something to please you.” You pipe up before the men fall into silence and uselessness.

Ren grunts towards the caf and you pour him a cup, letting him add sugar and milk as he sees fit. You memorize his movements with the greediness of a child in a sweets shop.

A careful ease falls over the table then, some kind of barrier you didn’t know existed breaking down. You spend the rest of breakfast speaking of easy, unimportant things. You speak of the weather on Serenno like cliches, and you discover that Ren remembers a holoshow from your childhood and you spend several minutes recounting favorite episodes. At one point Hux cracks a small but genuine smile and you both reward him back with your own. Your boys have wonderful faces when they smile.

~~~~~~

The funeral for Admiral Torwyn and his wife is a few days later and since you’re not leaving for the Finalizer yet, you attend. Due to the circumstances, the Council has gone to recess and so they all line the grave, giving eulogies and attempting to feel something in their bodies other than avarice. They aren’t convincing.

Most of the attendees are in black, but on your planet it’s disrespectful for anyone other than the family or direct mourners to wear black. Most people usually end up wearing darker colors in response. As such, you stand out, which you enjoy. Perhaps it’s gauche to care how you look at a funeral. But considering you’ll never get credit for the murders, you deserve some recognition!

So you stand next to your husband in his dress uniform, quiet and full of brimming power. Your dark blue gown moves slightly with every breeze, the gold embroidery adding a spark of color amongst all the drab.

Hux is holding your hand and your body itches for him. He’s been so busy with the construction of the base and most nights you had to drag him to bed just to sleep, let alone anything else. His thumb rubs against the back of your hand as various people get up to share their memories of the Admiral and his wife. It’s maddening and he must know what it’s doing to you, the bastard.

You see Karin Paru from across the cemetery, looking small and sad. You wonder if she thinks about that night, if it plagues her dreams with guilt and doubt, if she misses her husband. You wonder if she imagines a scenario where she confronts his murderer, perhaps take some revenge. Would it break her heart to know you did it? Did it with barely any remorse? Karin notices you and waves slightly, and you wave back. 

The speeches end and they start to lower the bodies into the hard earth. You turn your head slightly, your gold braided veil glinting in the sunlight, and catch your husband’s eyes. Squeezing his hand, Hux raises his eyebrow almost imperceptibly and, under your veil, you give a wide and wicked smile. You long to whisper in his ear, press your body all the way against his, and ask if he’s happy. Does he appreciate what you’ve done for him?

The expression in his eyes, something you’ve taken months to understand, tells you he is and he does.

You know that you should stay and talk to everyone. General Pryde has some news about the earlier murders, some leads on suspects but you brush him off. Claiming Hux’s stomach is still bad after the poisoning, you apologize and make your way out. Someone tells you to take a ride over to the medbay. Nodding distractedly, you rush to your quarters and push your husband down to ride him instead.

~~~~~~

You’re back on the Finalizer, _thank the stars_ , and enjoying a drink in your quarters while Hux works down on the bridge. Millie has been surprisingly good and affectionate, lounging on the both of you whenever she could. Clearly she missed you while you were on-planet.

A chime at the door goes off and your datapad tells you Captain Phasma is at the door. You enter a code and let her in, standing up from the couch. Your green robe makes a soft sound against the rug around your feet and you feel very underdressed.

“Captain Phasma, what a nice surprise. How are you?” You ask, Millie approaching the shiny metal leg of the Captain. She doesn’t acknowledge the tooka and glances briefly around the sitting room.

“I came to speak to you privately. Is this a good time?” She replies, ignoring your question and giving you no implication of what she wants to talk about. Stars, but you hate all these masks! You were both inside, in regulated air, why wear a helmet? They were so hard to connect to and read. Granted, you could understand a time when that would be prudent, but you were at the disadvantage and you detested it. 

“Of course, please come in and make yourself comfortable. Would you like a drink? My darling has a whiskey he’s fond of but I can make you something lighter if you’d prefer.” Like a perfect hostess, you gesture to the liquor cabinet. There’s a quiet whirring sound, and you see Phasma stare at the cabinet for longer than probably necessary. You’ve seen the specs of the Stormtrooper helmets. You know they have magnification and infrared technology. That they can see through certain substances and focus on almost anything. A cold sweeps over you, like you’ve just jumped into a freezing pool. On the second shelf of the cabinet, hidden in the back is the rum you brought back from Colonel Paru’s estate. It’s very out of place in your darling’s collection and while it wouldn’t convict you, it looks strange. You get the horrible feeling that Phasma has just seen it.

Settling back on the blue couch, Phasma removes her helmet and smiles. “I’ll take that whiskey please.”

Nodding shakily, you fix her the drink. Very few people can unsettle you, especially while you’ve been here. But Phasma, her loyalties and ambitions are unknown to you. You’re not sure where she stands, what she wants, and what she might do. Hux speaks of her with admiration and respect, of that you heartily agree, but she keeps things close to her chrome chest. You’re very similar, you decide, handing her a glass of cool whiskey.

You join her on the sofa, picking up your wine glass. There is silence while you both stare at each other, scoping out intentions. Phasma is plain looking but not ugly. She has a good face with a strong jaw and clear blue eyes. Her platinum blonde hair is regulation cut except for some fun length at the top, which you figure she’s allowed due to her rank. With her height and her skill, she is imposing and powerful and you find yourself thinking that the overall picture is quite beautiful. 

She takes a sip of whiskey and nods, setting the glass down on the coffee table. Millie leaps to the couch and curls up next to you.

“My Stormtroopers are exceptional soldiers, strong and quick with impeccable aim. They are trained since birth to excel in every area. They are not stupid and neither am I. Your actions have not gone unnoticed.” She says and your grip on your wine glass tightens.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. All I’ve done is go a few places and people drop dead around me. It’s not fun to be the subject of fear. People think I’m cursed.” You deflect airily.

“They found some fibers at the Paru Estate, and a boot print. The clothing was made in the Republic but it’s a few years old, which leads us to think it’s Resistance. They always end up taking the Republic’s old scraps. We also are fairly confident the assassin was male, wider and taller than you. But other than that, our investigators are stumped.” Phasma explains, ignoring you. Her words do give you some peace of mind though.

“I’m not surprised that the Resistance did this. They’ve always been so ruthless. Taking out some old men to cause destabilization seems like their MO. Plus an innocent pleasure slave? That’s just crass! For all they claim to want to help the galaxy, they sure do fail at showing it.” You point out, knowing full well that Phasma isn’t like the others. She isn’t stupid and she knows what you did. This is all just theater, though for who’s sake you couldn’t say.

“The whole matter should be wrapped up soon. We just need to find the perpetrator. Or at least, someone to frame.” At this she smirks and relaxes more into the sofa. Messy comes out of the kitchen and does a quick sweep of the sitting room before scurrying off to your bedroom. You keep a hand firmly on Millie’s collar to keep her from leaping after the mouse droid.

“Do you care about my husband, Captain? He speaks well and fondly of you but I admit I find you hard to gauge. If you’ve come here to expose me, I’m interested in seeing you try.” 

“On the contrary Lady Hux. I’m actually here to ask you the same thing. Do _you_ care about your husband?” Phasma asks, taking a sip of whiskey, her stare boring into you. There is the sound of a gasp and you realize it was you.

“Of course I do! Why would I be doing all this if it weren’t for him? You think I like being surrounded by all this grey? All these lecherous old men? They were wasting him! Wasting his talent and potential!” You shoot back hotly, knowing you’re playing right into her trap. You almost say something else, something that would destroy you if it was said out loud, but you bite it back. Later, you will admit it later.

“Starkiller was a failure.” She challenges, gesturing at you with her whiskey. You gesture right back with your wine glass.

“And Serenno is not. For the failure that Starkiller was, it was more than anyone else did. The First Order gained more land and power under Hux’s leadership than anyone else! The Supreme Leader barely considers him, and in turn, ignores the First Order. I’m making sure my husband is able to do what he wants and what he needs to bring glory to us all.”

“Some might think you treasonous. Lord Ren will surely have thoughts about your view of his Master.” Her eyebrow raises in amusement. 

“Lord Ren is the least of my problems, I can handle him. Believe me, I have him well in hand.” You scoff, only partially wishing you had him literally in hand, but that would come in time.

“You’re not wrong though. General Hux is extremely capable and skilled. Starkiller should have succeeded and it would have, if not for the traitor. I agree with you in your assessment of him. I agree with your actions.” She says, her voice going rough on the word _traitor_. Clearly that wound was still sore.

“You do? You’re not here to condemn or arrest me?” 

“You’re not the only one who’s killed for the General.”

You finish your wine with a large gulp and grab the bottle to pour more. You extend a hand to take Phasma’s glass and top it off but she waves you off with a smile.

“I had heard about Hux’s father dying years ago, it was in the news. That was you?” You question, the words slow and quiet, because if it’s true then your impression of Phasma will have to be changed. She doesn’t answer you but looks into your eyes, holding your stare and you know and she knows. She knows all that you’ve done, all the blood you’ve spilled and you are found exceptional.

You sit in stunned silence, leaning back against the couch with a huff. She is not your enemy, but your ally.

“I came here today to figure you out, figure out what you want. I came here to tell you that you have my support and my resources. I debated that part considering the two Stormtroopers you lost me, but I can let bygones be bygones.” Her tone is lighter again and you take in a breath in triumph.

“I’m going to make him Emperor and bring glory and peace to the galaxy. With your help and your troops, we can restore order and reduce any opponent to ash.” You announce into the sitting room, turning towards your guest. Phasma turns and it reminds you of a holoshow you saw once, where a nexu tracked a small pack of bark rats. You didn’t know how they did it, but the camera captured the exact moment the creature caught sight of his prey. His lips pulled back to bare his teeth and it looked almost like a smile. 

“To Emperor Hux.” You raise your glasses and she smiles and the galaxy is a rat.

~~~~~~

It’s later that night, your husband breathing deeply beside you, that you consider everything that’s happened.

You’re going to take a break, avoid any murder basically, while the First Order focuses on training new recruits on Serrano and taking back land from the now defunct Republic. They’ve been without leadership for so long, it was almost charitable for your husband to have set those planets in his sight.

There’s still plenty to do, of course. You need to keep an eye on the remaining men of the Council; make sure they aren’t getting any ideas. Phasma is helping there. She’s sent some of her men to provide extra security, briefed them on things to watch out for. If any of them make a grab at power or try to form an alliance, you’ll know.

Your main objectives now are to keep any evidence of your crimes hidden, and get rid of the Supreme Leader. The first one is easy; you left little evidence and the First Order was more than happy to have another reason to go after the Resistance. The second one however, was a bit more complicated.

You couldn’t kill the Supreme Leader. Despite how much you yearned to shoot the man where his heart never was, you didn’t have the strength or the mental acumen to protect yourself. Neither did Hux, and his proximity didn’t help. If anything it made Snoke more suspicious of him. No, it would have to be someone close who could also control the Force. 

In a perfect galaxy, Luke Skywalker would find Snoke and kill him, dying tragically in the process, and save you a lot of time. But this wasn’t that world.

You needed Kylo Ren. It was obvious to you now. Snoke would never expect his star protege to attack him, to turn his lessons against him. The question was how.

Lord Ren was fanatically loyal to his Master, and you would be a hypocrite to mock him for it considering the man lying next to you was probably the definition of intense. Considering how well he adapted to the more physical sides of being a husband, you weren’t complaining. But it wouldn’t be easy to change the knight’s loyalties. You had to find the right kind of incentive.

Then, as if on cue, your husband rolled towards you in his sleep, wrapping a pale arm around your middle. You look at the image of his bare arm on your exposed stomach, his hand touching possessively at your hip.

_Could it really be that simple?_

You remember that day in the meeting room, Ren’s helmet focused on your joined hands. Then later, longing plainly visible in his eyes as you served each other breakfast. The exact type of way Lord Ren wanted you and Hux was a little shaky but you could still play it to your advantage. In all honesty, you found the man to be oddly charming in his own way. You wanted to spend more time with him and you could sense that Hux did too.

But there’d have to be more than the promise of sex to lure Kylo Ren. The need and desire for that could fade, so you’d have to present it as a bonus to your actual offer.

So what would Kylo Ren want, above all else? You know so little about him, most of it being hearsay and rumors. Rumors that clearly weren’t true since his face was decidedly human and not a monster’s.

But you do know this: Kylo Ren has always had Snoke. Since he was a child, he’s heard Snoke’s voice in his head. From such an impressionable age, he’s had the voice of his Master giving his tasks, teaching him things, watching his every move.

You also figure that having such famous relatives couldn’t have made it easy for Kylo to grow up with a sense of normalcy. You were familiar with it yourself. The pressure from all sides to be a certain type of person; to behave just so and always know what to do. A literal warring between dark and light was probably happening inside him and no one cared enough to notice. So what did he want?

“Freedom.” You breathe out into the silence of your bedroom.

You’ll offer him freedom. The ability to come and go as he pleases, to take on the missions he deems worthy, to train and study the Force as he wishes. When given such flexibility within his life, anything you ask of him will seem special and important. You’re not his Master so surely it must be an incredible task, a test of strength and will. Besides, you’ll ask him, you’ll never demand, even though your requests will never be denied. 

He’ll be under your control yes, but with plenty of slack to do as he pleases when you don’t need him. Surely someone who’s been raised under such strict guidelines will appreciate your kindness. But you can’t just let someone like Kylo Ren loose in the world with no anchor. He’ll have the illusion of freedom, all the best parts anyway. Ren will grow stronger and more powerful. He’ll have full jurisdiction over his knights and you will respect his ideas and choices. Under your husband’s command, he will be honed and focused into what he was truly meant to be. The potential is there.

Your darling might counter, as he is wont to do just for the enjoyment of it, that Ren would just be trading one cage for another. But that’s not quite true. Snoke is a cage, meant to keep his student subdued and scared. Yours will be more of a large yard behind a homestead. No longer will he have boundaries he can’t cross, or rope pulling him back. He’ll just have to heed your call when it appears.

After all, freedom is not being able to see the fence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7 coming soon!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Once again, thanks to my Dream World Wives Club group, you girls are the best!
> 
> Tumblr: [X](http://www.aweirdlookingtree.tumblr.com)  
> Fic Pinterest: [X](https://www.pinterest.com/briellecari/potential-au/)


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With your husband so far away, you realize you miss him greatly. But diplomatic meetings with the Chiss and surprise visits by Supreme Leader Snoke keep you busy until you can be together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd so please excuse any mistakes. Thank you so much for your patience with the long upload schedule. I hope you like this chapter!
> 
> Originally posted on tumblr on February 15th, 2021.

“Do you miss me terribly darling?” You ask your husband over holocall. The blue tinge of the technology paints him a ghostly hue and you shiver without realizing. He’s not looking at you, instead he’s frowning down at something on his desk.

“Yes my dear, I’m lost without you.” He replies with no tone. If you were in the same room you’d push him off the couch or bed for teasing you like this. Instead you just roll your eyes and blow a raspberry. His head jerks up at the sound and for a moment he looks angry but then it melts into a good-natured smile.

“Are you doing anything special tonight?” Hux asks you suddenly, leaning back in his desk chair. There’s something strange in his eyes, a peculiar spark you can’t quite parse. You shrug and focus on braiding back your hair.

“Not really. I have that meeting with the Chiss tomorrow. They want to meet obscenely early so I’m probably just going to finish preparing and then go to sleep. What? You expected me to go out to some club, take spice, and bring a young thing home?” You say, finishing your braid and searching in the drawer next to the bed for some silk. You’re going to wrap your hair to preserve the style and you know you put a silk cap in the night table for this very reason.

“Hardly. I was just curious. You’re usually out with various friends at times like this, being the center of attention in a grand room.” He says, scratching at his chin with an air of embarrassment. Your heart aches for him and you give him a pleased smile.

“Oh darling, you do miss me! You know there’s no one I’d rather spend my time with than you. Even if it is over holocall.” You reassure him, watching that spark of jealousy and apprehension- for that’s what it was- fade away.

It’s funny in a way, to be celebrating your one year anniversary so far apart and alone. You suppose it’s an appropriate bookend, considering you spent the first few months of your marriage the same way. There’s something so nice about being far away from your husband, you think you prefer him that way. His rough and sharp edges don’t hurt as much with a galaxy between you. But at the same time, the softness you worked so hard to cultivate fails to come through. If this trip had come earlier in your marriage, you’d jump at the chance to leave your husband for a few weeks, but now your fingers feel cold without his to hold. It’s disgustingly sweet, but you don’t bother to curb the thoughts.

Before you’d push that sweetness and affection down, you’d put it in a box to examine at a _much_ later date. But now, you find yourself embracing and reveling in the warm feelings you get when your husband treats you kindly. It’s all building towards something and while you used to be scared, now you think that when the words formalize and the feelings solidify, you’ll be ready for them.

“What about you? Are you planning on doing anything? You should darling, you should get out more. Talk to people, make some friends.” You point out, resting casually on your bed. It’s not very comfortable but it’ll do while you’re here. The Chiss have given you a nice room for your stay here, but you’re sick of all the blue.

“Probably not. You know I’m not one for socializing. Besides, as the General, it would be inappropriate for me to fraternize with my subordinates. I can’t imagine they’d want to have a drink with their superior anyway.” He says, writing something down and checking out of the conversation.

“That’s not true. You’re always so charming at parties! Besides, there’s nothing gauche about having a drink or a meal with your boss. You’re allowed to be pleasant with the people who work under you. They might appreciate seeing you in a more casual context. Mitaka practically worships the ground you walk on, I doubt you could do anything to lower yourself in his estimation.” You shoot back but he just shakes his head. He gives you a glare when you mention Mitaka’s idolatry; you know he enjoys the ego boost more than he says.

“Oh maybe you’re right. It’s been so quiet without you here and drinking alone just seems depressing. Normally I’d just ask Phasma, but she’s on Serenno training the new recruits.” He looks so sad just then. So upset that his friend can’t come out to play that you smirk at the innocence of the expression.

“What about Lord Ren? He’s outside the Order’s chain of command so there’s no risk of inappropriate fraternization. You two seem like you’re getting along better and becoming friendlier won’t hurt your partnership in the field. I think it would be a good thing for you and Kylo to get closer. He seems so lonely sometimes darling, like he could use a companion.” You suggest, keeping your voice very light and easy. Have you been waiting to give this suggestion since you called your husband? Yes, but you have patience.

“You want me to grab a casual drink with Lord Ren? Are you crazy? I can’t imagine that man would be pleasant company in any situation, especially one with alcohol.” Hux asks incredulously.

“Oh nonsense! He had breakfast with us that one time and he was a perfect guest. You said yourself that he was always there when you were planning Serenno. Clearly he wants to be more involved with the Order and respects you as someone to connect with. He’s probably sitting alone in his room, meditating about some silly Force thing, or working in the gym until he collapses. Get a drink with him darling and give him a reward for his hard work, especially since I can’t.” You push, wondering if he can tell how invested you are in the idea. He makes a noncommittal noise and taps a finger against his lips. It’s not a ‘yes’ but it’s not a ‘no’. 

“Besides, it’s your anniversary. You deserve to have some fun with an attractive partner.” You drop; the effect like a bomb for the way it makes your husband react.

He sputters for a moment, as if he’d been drinking something and you made him choke. He tries to start his reply three times before he finally freezes, smoothes down his already smooth hair, and takes a deep breath.

“Are you suggesting I proposition Kylo Ren?” He asks, deadly slow. You grin widely and nod. 

“Of course; that was always the plan. If you think that I’m the only one Kylo looks at when he thinks no one sees, you’ve got another thing coming. He rushed to our apartment when he thought you’d died from poison and he stayed for breakfast. Believe me, while he was certainly captivated by me, he seemed even more interested in us.” You explain, idly rubbing your fingers along your clavicle. Your husband’s eyes follow the movement. 

“You make a compelling point. Having Kylo in our pocket certainly wouldn’t be the worst thing. Not that I’m agreeing to what you’re implying! But forming a stronger partnership wouldn’t be a bad idea.” Hux muses, unbuttoning his jacket and mimicking your movements on his own collar.

“Well of course darling, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But I think it might be nice to be a little more cordial to the Knight and having a simple nightcap seems like a good way to do it.” You coo, your tone a touch more condescending than sweet. Your husband waffles for a moment, still looking unsure. Then he stands suddenly.

“I hope you aren’t offended my dear, if I cut this conversation short. I think I’m going to go have a drink in the officer’s lounge. I suppose we’ll see who ends up joining me. Happy Anniversary (Y/N), have a good night. I’ll speak to you tomorrow about the meeting.” He says in his succinct way. Oh, but you really do care about this ginger beanstalk, don’t you?

“Goodnight darling. Have fun.” You trail off, your voice singing in the connection as it cuts. You let out a chuckle and settle back into bed. You have the feeling you’re going to have some _very_ pleasant dreams tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~

You are well aware that this is a very delicate mission. No human has been to the Chiss planet of Csilla in decades. They are an isolated planet with occasional bouts of interaction and you’re here to get another one. You know so little about what their government wants versus what the people want but hopefully you can come to an understanding and alliance. The Chiss have amazing technology and facilities that would only benefit the First Order. Not to mention all that manpower of their large and obedient population.

You don’t know why you have been granted an audience with the various heads of the Chiss Ascendancy but you’re not one to give up an opportunity. So far they’ve been very hospitable, giving you a warm welcome and cozy room. Your hosts aren’t effusive in their emotions but they are perfectly pleasant. Being married to General Hux has given you the skills to work with controlled and cold people, so you can parse their curiosity of you.

You’re just finishing up a simple breakfast when an attendant fetches you and brings you to a large meeting room. Floor to ceiling windows show the snowy and barren expanse of the planet far outside the main city you’ve been staying in. You give a small curtsy to the heads of the families, holding your palms outward and upward in the traditional display.

“Lady Hux, thank you so much for joining us. I hope the room and amenities have been to your liking.” Diplomat Chaf’ret’onusi says. You smile and nod, taking a seat at the table. 

Your eyes travel around the room, looking at the different men and women, feeling strangely at ease. If nothing else the Chiss have the same fashion sense as you. The various families favor specific color palettes with design elements important to their history. Several of the attendees have grand sleeves or intricate embellishment and you notice that they eye your own gown with interest.

“Now everyone, we’re here to discuss the First Order, specifically their interaction with us and the Galaxy at large. Lady (Y/N) Hux, wife of the esteemed General Armitage Hux, is here in a purely diplomatic context to discuss a possible alliance. My Lady, you have the floor.” Mott'push'kaunird announces to the room before gesturing to you. You smile and stand.

“Esteemed Family Leaders, thank you so much for inviting me to your planet to discuss this venture. For decades the Chiss have kept themselves separate from the Galaxy, focusing inward. Your education and technological advancements are legendary and your ability to remain neutral and peaceful during times of conflict is admirable. The First Order respects the Chiss Ascendancy in all it’s forms. As an institution we are taught about the power and capability of Mitth'raw'nuruodo, known to us as Grand Admiral Thrawn. His work is studied and admired and, we hope, able to be continued. You have a history with the Empire, and thus with the First Order. With the New Republic gone, we fear that the Unknown Regions will soon fall to anarchy and we worry for our Chiss brethren.” You say, your voice carrying throughout the room. A female Chiss starts at your mention of anarchy but you hold a hand out to temper her. 

“I do not mean to imply that your military forces could not defend against the rabble of the Outer Rim and beyond, but the First Order could provide so much more protection. Especially in a preventative sense. We could help stop any insurgency before it even reaches you and your civilian population. But the time for isolationism is over and the Chiss will soon have to align themselves with a faction. How much longer can you stay amongst yourselves? Your advancements will slow and falter, your education will become outdated. Your resources will dwindle from overpopulation and the Resistance will soon come by preaching their doctrines and speaking of the Force. They care not for your culture and beliefs, they seek assimilation. Perhaps some will see this as utopian or ideal, but the Chiss way of life must be preserved.” You explain. Keeping your voice even-tempered is proving difficult but you were raised as royalty. In order to gain the respect of those around you, you must appeal to their logic.

“So how is the First Order different? You seek to control us as well! And what will you ask for in exchange for all your kindness and protection?” Prad'sairu'pertetho points out, giving no inclination of any distrust or anger. You’re reminded suddenly of how much you hate helmets; the blank stares of the people at the table giving you nothing to work with just like the reflective whiteness of Stormtrooper helmets.

“We seek not to control but to form a partnership, Dsairu. I’m not trying to trick you or hide the First Order’s intentions. We seek trading opportunities as well as access to your various technologies. This would be an even exchange. The might of the Chiss would only be increased by joining with the First Order. Working with us will help your people for years to come. There will be job opportunities, increased funding for science and medicine, new imports and exports benefitting your economy. All the First Order asks is for your allegiance. Grand Admiral Thrawn saw the boon in our partnership and I hope that you agree. I am not unaware of your support of him during the Empire years despite the backlash from your people. But you are the leaders and you know best. He was a visionary and we want to continue his ideas and values. I’ve brought with me the future plans of the First Order to look over. You’ll see the various trade routes we’re considering and the patents we’re willing to exchange with some of yours.” An attendant enters then with multiple pieces of flimsi and diagrams. Your husband had devised ships and bases, mapped out new prototypes, and points of connection for the officials to look over.

“You make excellent points,” Inrok’ini'raozo muses, resting back in his chair, “The Chiss do have a long standing tradition of aligning ourselves with the Empire and it’s various off-shoots. But I worry about your leadership. I do not doubt General Hux’s talents. We all saw the destructive capabilities of Starkiller Base, not to mention his tactical ground maneuvers. But Supreme Leader Snoke concerns us.” A passing cloud outside the window makes his skin turn navy in the shade. His family primarily focused on technology and science on Csilla and you hoped he would agree with you. But he brings up a good point and one that you had been anticipating.

“I understand your hesitation Kini. Supreme Leader Snoke and his Knights of Ren deal with the Force and it’s mysteries; something I know you hold in great contempt. Your views are not alone within the First Order. While I admit that I have respect for those who wield it’s power, overall the Order does not employ the use of the Force as a battle strategy or a method of actual control. While it’s still being developed, the First Order is primarily seeking to cull the Force users of the galaxy and limit their scope. A select few will be kept as an elite strike team, for delicate situations that require a measure of secrecy, but otherwise we see the power of the people and their honest mental fortitude to be our greatest resource. Also, Snoke will not be an obstacle for much longer.” You finish, silence following your treasonous statement. The tension you had felt building as you spoke dissipates. A few moments pass as the various Heads look at their tablemates and you take a sip of tea. 

“You have given us plenty to think about and we thank you for your proposal. We ask that you leave us now to discuss the matter at hand and we will reconvene tomorrow to announce our final decision. We will go over the materials you’ve graciously provided and hopefully come to an equitable and positive outcome. An attendant will fetch you when it’s time. Until then, feel free to explore our city and all it’s features. We have provided a guide to show you the best of our home should you wish it.” The Chiss at the head of the table says before the doors open and you step out.

It’s a beautiful day outside, even with the chilly air, and you have an idea brewing. You have a feeling that the government will approve your plan but you know that the people of Csilla often have a different perspective. All the more reason to get to know them and gain their favor. 

Stopping by your room to grab a Nexu coat, you quickly leave and board a train to the middle of the city. Your guide is a tall male with short spiky hair, and he starts an extremely detailed chronicle of Csilla as soon as the doors close. You pass homes of different sizes, shops and commerce centers. You see beautiful landscaping, covered in sparkling snow, with little blue-skinned children playing in groups. You interrupt your guide to ask to stop, inquiring about the town center. Flushing purple, he stops the transport and you’re out in the cold sunshine. Smiling, you head over to the park to watch the families. As you cross through the shoveled paths, you train dragging behind, multiple children stop and stare at you. 

Eventually, you feel a tug at your fur coat and you look down to see a little girl in a tan jacket, her blue hair in adorable ringlets. You smile down at her and your guide’s ongoing monologue about the history of Csilla peters off. 

“Who are you? You don’t look like us, you’re different.” The little girl demands quietly, with all the precocious curiosity that only a child can have.

“My name is (Y/N). I’m here as a diplomat to your planet from the First Order. I have a break so I wanted to explore.” You say as a few more children sidle up to you. Looking around for a moment, you spot a bench and sit down, the little girl still holding onto your coat. At the bench you have an audience of four, not including your guide looking nervous. He glances around for a moment before waving to a group of parents in the distance.

“What’s a diplomat?” “What’s that on your head?” “Why are you dressed so nice?” “Do you have any pets?” “Are you a princess?” Are the questions fired rapidly at you from multiple angles. Laughing brightly, you hold your hands up. The children’s shouts have reached other people in the park and you don’t want to disturb anyone.

“Please one at a time, my sweet ones. Give me a moment to think. A diplomat is a type of job. Basically my job is to go to different planets looking for friends. I want everyone in the galaxy to work together and reach their full potential. So I go from planet to planet with ideas and gifts, hoping that the leaders of that planet will want to trade and be friends as well.” You say, oversimplifying greatly. Then you carefully remove your tiara and hold it out for the little girl who asked about it.

“This is a tiara. On my home planet, people wear this to show they are part of the nobility. But no, I’m not a princess. I’m just a Lady. I also wear it because it makes me feel nice. That’s why I dress like this. I think it’s fun to dress up and it definitely got your attention, so I’d say it worked. Do you like it?” You explain with a question of your own. The children stop gawking at your headpiece to quickly nod in approval. It warms you more than you realize.

“You look beautiful. You could be a princess if you wanted; you look like one from a story.” A little boy in a yellow hat says. You flush and laugh, affectionately rubbing a finger against his cheek. 

“Thank you little one, that’s a very nice thing to say. I must admit, I’m really enjoying being here. You have such a beautiful planet with an amazing history and culture. I do hope that we can become friends. I’d love to come back here at different times in the year.” You muse out loud, putting the tiara back on your head.

“Well I’ll tell my daddy about you! I want us to be friends too! Everyone should be friends with the First Order.” A different little boy pipes up, looking determined. You smile, your eyes growing fond and bright. The other children agree eagerly. Isn’t that adorable! You’ve got your own little propaganda machine with barely any effort.

The children ask more questions, capturing your attention with glee. They ask about your husband and you extol his virtues. They ask about your coat and Millie and laugh at your story about her chasing the mouse droid. Unbeknownst to you, a couple of journalists, hearing of your visit, have been trailing you all day and manage to catch the little parley you’ve stumbled into. Somewhere across the galaxy, your husband sees a photo and smiles wickedly.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s a week later and you’re finally back in your husband’s arms. The meeting with the Chiss and other various diplomats had gone well and they had agreed to align themselves with the First Order. While you were no politician, more and more governments were joining with the First Order and your husband’s vision. It’s all about shifting their loyalty from Snoke and towards Hux. Most would say they worked under the same banner, but you understood the subtle difference. If everything went according to plan, when Snoke fell, so would everyone else. They would fall into line behind your husband, unknowingly eager for the change in leadership. Your teeth hurt from how sweet it would all be.

You’re on the couch in the sitting room, Hux’s head in your lap. Millie is sleeping under the couch, or possibly eyeing Messy’s charging station. She hasn’t attacked the mouse droid recently but you’ve been keeping an eye on her anyway. You’re tracing the shape of your husband’s nose and cheekbones languorously, marveling at the difference between your skin tones. The shades compliment each other beautifully and you smile, leaning down to kiss his forehead. 

His eyes close with a relaxed sigh and you continue your important exploration. Your nails caress the line off his jaw with the intent of going lower when the door chimes. Normally you’d just ignore it right now; Hux is off shift and you’re busy, but it’s an urgent chime. Without opening his eyes, Hux tells the door to open and Kylo Ren stumbles in. His hand is raised, as if he was going to start pounding on the door. Lowering it in a way that can only be described as sheepish, he instead takes off his helmet. He looks worried for a half second then changes to cold blankness. That can’t be good.

“The Supreme Leader wants to see you.” Is all he says. Hux sits up sharply and your lap grows cold. 

“Why does he want to see me? I’ve been off shift for hours and we had a meeting two days ago.” He asks, his face thunderous. Kylo shakes his head and takes a step towards the both of you. 

“Not you Hux, her.” He says quietly, the words echoing inside your head and settling in the room. Both men look at you, though their expressions differ. Kylo looks at you with trained indifference. Hux looks at you with barely constrained fear.

“But I’m in my pajamas. Can’t this wait until tomorrow morning?” You whine, knowing your voice sounds petulant. Kylo’s gaze flips to anger.

“No it can’t wait! You do not question the Supreme Leader like that! He is wise in all things and if he called you for a meeting while you were taking a bath, then you’d show up naked! How dare you question th-” He yells, before Hux reaches out and places a hand on Kylo’s arm.

“That’s enough Ren. She doesn’t know. Calm down.” He says quietly and the knight does. The sheepish expression returns. 

“Forgive me, my Lady. But this meeting can not be postponed. Supreme Leader Snoke asked to speak to you right away and you don’t want to keep him waiting.” 

You hold back a scream of frustration and nod, slipping on some shoes. If Snoke wants to see you so badly, then he’ll just have to deal with your sleepwear. Giving your husband one last look, you follow Kylo out.

The walk to Snoke’s chamber is quiet, both you and Kylo lost in thought. You pass by random personnel, who do double takes at your sheer gray nightgown. You wish you had brought some kind of shawl or wrap but it’s too late now.

At the door to Snoke’s chamber, Kylo stops and gives you a long look, full of unease. Holding out his hand, you reach and grab it, squeezing for a moment before dropping it.

“I’ll be right outside the whole time and I’ll escort you back to your quarters when you finish. I won’t be able to hear much, but I’ll be here.” 

Then the door opens and you walk inside, keeping your head quiet and calm. You do not look back and the door swishes closed.

The chamber is large and open, your footsteps echoing as you approach the center of the room. There is no throne or dais, just cold metal and stone. You’re not sure what is supposed to happen. Will Snoke walk out of a hidden door or something? His chamber is much colder than the hallway and you pray that this will be over soon. You run your hands over your arms once to warm them before you hear the tell tale buzz of a holo projection.

In front of you sits Snoke, hazy but imposing. He seems larger than life, his head massive upon his impressive shoulders. No wonders Kylo fears him so. To see your master in such a way, in such an uncomfortable room, truly must inspire feelings of dread.

“Lady (Y/N) Hux. Thank you for agreeing to this meeting.” He says, his voice booming around the cavernous room. It rattles inside your bones and you hide your grimace in a small bow.

“Supreme Leader Snoke. It’s an honor to finally meet with you.” You demur, both knowing this was not a request. Then, silence. Snoke just stares at you, tapping a finger on the armrest of his seat. You don’t think he’s reading your thoughts, but you practice the shielding that Hux taught you anyway. He taught you to imagine a large metal fortress with locked doors and looming boxes with no labels; you feel like it helps him more than it helps you, but it’s worth a shot.

“You think you’re so clever. You think no one has discovered your treason. You’re not as clever as you think.” Snoke announces to the room. You do not react for fear that you’ll suddenly burst into tears. It’s not that you’re afraid of Snoke, except maybe you are.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to. I’ve been told I’m clever, yes, but I’m not sure what you mean by treason.” You say, keeping your voice steady and monotone.

“The rest of those idiots in the Order may have believed you but I do not. It’s no coincidence that murder and death follow you wherever you go. You may have them convinced that it’s Resistance scum that killed three members of my council, but I know you’re behind it.” He accuses, his face leaning down over you.

“If you’re so sure I’m the culprit then why have I not faced trial? Why have you not killed me in retribution? No one would question your judgement.” 

“Because, I’m clever too. I’m well aware of what motivates my people. You’ve done a remarkable job of ingratiating yourself to the First Order and to General Hux. Were I to dispose of you, there would be public outrage. That’s a mess I’m not willing to deal with.” He grumbles, looking annoyed. The fear you have disappears into triumph and pride. How pathetic of Snoke, to be felled by an ordinary woman with basic conversation skills and a charming smile.

“Oh, I see. The people love me and you're stuck. I’ve gotten more planets and governments to bow to the First Order than you have in years and it burns you. Even if my death looked like an accident, the people would mourn and rally behind Hux to support him in his grief,” You counter, trailing off for a moment, “and if he merely suggested that my death wasn’t an accident, then they would turn on you. They would revolt and even in all your power, you would be helpless. You need me! You need my diplomacy and my image and you hate that.”

Snoke is quiet for a moment, looking at you pensively. You resist the urge to cross your arms like a pompous child.

“You will live as long as you are useful. Hux likes you and he works better with you around. I can admit that. But the instant you step out of line or I decide I don’t need you, I will destroy you. Your machinations for glory are simple and shortsighted and will fail once I find the Jedi and resume complete control over the Force. Your days are numbered and the ones you have will be closely monitored.” He announces, steepling his long and bony fingers together. If looks could kill, your glare would have him bleeding on the ground. 

“But I also see the opportunity of using you as I use your husband. Stand still, this will hurt.” Snoke adds suddenly, extending a ghostly hand towards you. It’s larger than your entire body, even as a staticky hologram, and you flinch in anticipation. He’s going to enter your mind and twist it somehow, scar and mangle your thoughts. 

Hux has been training you to protect your mind, to put up a wall, but you’re by no means an expert. You know Kylo is right outside but you also know these walls are thick and he might not be able to sense anything. His loyalty to Snoke also runs deep…

So in your panic, you forget everything that your husband told you and you imagine a garden instead. Lush and green with high, manicured walls. The hedges are thick with ivy and vines, flowers of different colors dotted around. The sword of Snoke’s touch must get through them to see your soft underbelly.

The branches and leaves are too intertwined to cut out a deep opening. The flowers are disorienting and blind in their colors and fragrance. The thorns prick and scratch Snoke’s presence as he attempts to force his way through. The beaming sunlight makes him wince and lose focus. When he does manage to cut and swipe your blooms away, his invisible hand is in a maze, surrounded on all sides. Your protection is simple but effective. He was probably expecting a steel wall or a stone castle; not a seemingly easy flower maze. But he barely gets much further than a few cursory attempts before retreating from your head. 

He was right, it did hurt, but not as badly as you feared. It’s as bad as a bad headache but you still grimace for effect. You open your eyes, unsure of when they closed. He is frowning.

“Watch your step (Y/N), because my patience will not last forever.” The words echo in the cold chamber as the feed cuts out and you are alone. Stars, but you hate him with a passion! At least you’ve got a small reprieve, chaperoned as it may be. 

Taking a few deep breaths, you carefully get down on the hard metal floor, arranging your nightgown in an artful way before letting out an ear-piercing shriek. Then you flop onto the floor, unfortunately banging your head in the process, but the pain that radiates through your skull will only help with the realism. Barely a moment passes after your scream before the doors are forced open and Kylo rushes in, falling to your side. You don’t pretend to be unconscious or anything like that. You just let your eyes glaze over and your brain go quiet. 

Kylo carefully gathers you in his arms and asks about what happened, begs you to acknowledge him. You groan and close your eyes. He stands slowly, your face pressed against his firm chest. His heart beats fast and your hand twitches.

“Don’t worry (Y/N), you’re okay. It’s over and you’re fine. I’m bringing you back to Hux, don’t worry. I got you, I’ll take care of you, you’re okay. I’m here, I’m here for you.” He says, repeating it under his breath as he runs back to your quarters. You keep your eyes closed, occasionally letting out a whimper or groan.

After what seems like seconds of laying warm against Kylo’s strong chest, you hear the whoosh of a door and your husband’s voice angrily asking what happened.

“I think Snoke tried to enter her mind. She must not have been prepared and he probably wasn’t gentle.” Kylo explains, placing you down on your bed, arranging your limbs to be more comfortable, which almost makes you break character to thank him. At some point he had taken off his gloves, or maybe he hadn’t been wearing them, and you feel his hand cup your face. You turn in his soft grip, making sure to drag your lips across his palm. Then he leaves with a shuddering breath.

Though they’re speaking quietly, you can hear him and Hux talking in the sitting room. You sink further into the mattress.

“Try not to worry too much Hux, she’ll be fine. The quick scan I did of her shows no internal damage. So while he definitely forced his way in, he didn’t do anything that should persist or cause problems in the future. Just pain until she sleeps it off.” Kylo says, his voice quiet in it’s distance. He would know considering what he’s done to prisoners in the past.

“But did he put anything in?” Hux whispers. There’s the sound of creaking leather and you imagine he has grabbed Kylo’s arm or pulled at his back.

“No, I don’t think so. This was meant to be a search and find, not a destruction. He meant to hurt her, but not enough to cause… dissent.” Kylo replies, his words taking on a strange lilt. There is more silence, or perhaps they are talking even more quietly now.

“Thank you Kylo, for staying with her and bringing her back. It means a lot to me, to the both of us I’m sure. I’ll message you in the morning with her condition because I know you worry. Don’t try to deny it. Good night Kylo.” Hux says and the door to your chambers closes shut.

“Alright, he’s gone you can stop faking now.” Your husband calls from the sitting room and you laugh uproariously. Sitting up as the bedroom door opens fully, you smile at him.

“I wasn’t faking! At least, not entirely! Snoke was in my head and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. Do you think it was mean of me, to pretend to be in pain? Was that manipulative?” You ask as Hux gets into bed beside you. His arm wraps around your shoulder and you snuggle up close.

“It was underhanded and detestable and I was immeasurably proud, my dear. Besides, it’ll all work out in the long run. What relationship doesn’t have a few white lies as foundation?” He says, dimming the lights. His words give you pause though; what lies has he told you? Perhaps that’s the adventure of marriage; to discover them.

“When Kylo first came in with me, were you worried?” Your question settles amongst the dark. Hux shifts and pulls you closer.

“Yes, you ridiculous woman, I was worried. I didn’t know what was going to happen with Snoke. I’m not too important to say I feared Kylo returning with a dead body. Once Ren said you had no mental damage, I knew you were faking. I’m glad you’re alright though, I’m more relieved than I can probably express.”

You resume your actions from earlier, carefully tracing the shape of his face and then traveling down slowly to his neck and shoulders. Rubbing up and down his bare chest, you feel the tension leave his body, the breaths coming easier and lighter.

“I’m sorry darling, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know what to expect myself. I thought perhaps I was walking to my end. But all he did was tell me he knows I committed the murders. He’s not going to formally accuse me or punish me, in fact he seemed very annoyed that he couldn’t. But I’ve made myself too public and too valuable to be disposed of. He said my days are numbered, but what he didn’t seem to understand was that his are too.”

“For now, let’s sleep and leave those concerns for another day. I think I’m more than ready for this day to be over.” Hux murmurs.

You perch yourself up on your elbow, leaning over him. Your hair falls like a curtain on his chest and you lean down to press a kiss on his sternum. He sucks in a surprised breath.

“Are you sure darling? Are you sure you just want to go to sleep? Because I think the best thing for us to do, in the wake of all that fear and stress, is spend some time relaxing under the covers.” You say, the implication obvious as your mouth travels lower down your husband’s body. 

“How could I say no to a request like that? I’d have to be a monster and a fool. Have your fun my dear, because once you get yours, I’m getting mine.” He smirks, the expression barely visible. It sparks a flame in your chest then spreads outward. With a laugh, you get yourself comfortable while your husband goes speechless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and supporting me!
> 
> Tumblr: [X](http://www.aweirdlookingtree.tumblr.com)  
> Fic Pinterest: [X](https://www.pinterest.com/briellecari/potential-au/)


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